


Don't Walk on Ice (No Matter How Nice)

by lecksa



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Eventual Smut, F/F, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:30:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 68,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6960805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lecksa/pseuds/lecksa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke begins to question her decisions as she finds herself strolling across campus in the middle of the night. She just needed some space and time to clear her head. However, a brunette armed with an acoustic guitar and a contagious smile tops the list of things she never expected to find this evening. Now her mind is anything but clear.</p><p>College Clexa AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Come on, Clarke! Let’s play!” Octavia yells over the loud music, grabbing Clarke by the wrist and dragging her along behind her. Clarke laughs and obliges, weaving through the crowd behind her friend. Bodies press up against her on all sides, not paying any attention as she bounces off of them and pushes through the buzzing crowd.

“Clarke and I call next game!” Octavia announces as the two finally emerges from the crowd into a separate room, still occupied but not fully packed with people. A table stands in the middle of the room, adorned with the classic solo cups in a typical pong formation.

“You’re going to have to wait, O,” Bellamy Blake responds before lofting a ball down the table. The ball bounces off the edge of a cup and then falls to the floor. “We just started a game.”

Murphy, standing beside Bellamy, tosses a second ball down the table. Murphy misses the cups entirely and the ball bounces on the table and then onto the floor.

“Yeah, and this could take a while,” Jasper teases as he retrieves both balls from the floor and tosses one to Monty, whose reflexes have clearly disappeared with the presence of alcohol in his system.

“Ugh, fine,” Octavia pouts. “Come find us when you’re finished then.” Bellamy nods as Jasper tosses his ball down the table. Octavia and Clarke turn around and plunge back into the crowd of the pulsating party. The lights are low and Clarke can feel the bass of the music ricocheting in her chest and striking her eardrums. She feels grateful for the warm feeling coursing through her veins and the buzz the alcohol has given her, and then realizes that she still has a bottle of Bud Light in her hand. She lifts the bottle to her lips and swallow deeply, trying to further the buzz.

She tries her best to follow Octavia back through the crowd, but gets lost somewhere along the way. She shrugs and decides to head for the kitchen, in search of another bottle to replace her now empty one.

Fewer people loiter in the kitchen, mostly just those scrounging for food and those trying to replenish their drinks. A blonde girl stands in the corner with her phone pressed to one ear and her hand cupped over the other, trying to carry some conversation over the loud music. It doesn't seem much use though. Clarke can't hear a word of the conversation from only a few feet away.

“Hey, Clarke!” If it hadn’t been for the hand on her shoulder turning her around, Clarke probably wouldn’t have even heard her name called. She lets the person turn her around and finds Raven behind her, smiling with two drinks in her hand. Clarke returns the smile and gladly accepts the second drink. Raven nods and gestures toward the back door and leads the way outside.

Clarke follows, a little relieved to escape the demanding bass of the music for a few minutes. The cool air wraps around her like a blanket, and she welcomes it. Raven leans against the porch railing, setting her drink down next to her before reaching into the pocket of her jacket. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After pulling one from the pack and balancing it between her lips, she offers the pack to Clarke.

Clarke doesn't consider herself a regular smoker by any means, but sometimes during a night of drinking, she can't refuse. She finds smoking almost therapeutic at times, and she loves to watch the smoke float away from her as she exhales. So she accepts Raven’s offer and pulled one from the pack. Raven lights her cigarette after returning the pack to her pocket, and then passes the lighter to Clarke. Clarke lights hers and then sets the lighter on the porch railing.

“Griffin’s off her game tonight, huh?” Raven says as she exhales, blowing the smoke in Clarke’s direction, a smirk tugging at her lips.

“Please, have I ever been off my game?” Clarke returns cockily, taking a sip of her drink and smiling. Raven rolls her eyes and takes another drag off her cigarette.

“Pretty sure you’d have your tongue down somebody’s throat by now on any other given day,” Raven teases, offering a chuckle. Clarke just shruggs in response. She could say that nobody here interested her or caught her eye, but truthfully she hadn’t been paying much attention. She’d mostly just tagged along with her group of friends, letting them lead her this way and that and just enjoying where the party took her. Raven, however, remains unconvinced and expects more banter from Clarke than a surrendering shrug.

“Really, Clarke, you okay?” She pushes, and Clarke takes a drag off her cigarette. When she exhales, no smoke billows out from her lips, and she realizes that she had spent so much time staring into space that she’d let her cigarette burn out. She reaches for the lighter again and lights the tip again, breathing deeply.

“I’m good, Rae, honest,” she responds, but she can feel that the words are not entirely true. In all honesty, she isn’t sure why she's in such a mood or why she isn't scanning the room for potential hook-ups. Maybe she has just outgrown the college scene and doesn't enjoy it as much as she used to.

“If you say so,” Raven replies, unconvinced. She pulls one last drag from her cigarette before the flame reaches the filter, and she flicks the butt into the grass. She stands there for a few moments with Clarke, who remains silent and offers nothing to the conversation. Raven finally decides to retreat and leave Clarke to her thoughts. Maybe she’ll come around if she just has some time to herself.

“I’ll be inside. Come find me when you finish your cig,” she tells Clarke before turning around to head back inside.

Clarke still has about half of a cigarette to smoke, and she still can't pull herself out of her own mind. She stares out into the empty backyard, lit only by a nearby streetlamp. Tall pine trees stand at the back edge of the yard like bodyguards, while a chain-link fence borders the left side of the yard. To the right, a handful of partygoers stroll down the sidewalk. It's easy to decipher who's coming and who's going, simply by the sway of their step.

Aside from the occasional passersby, not much else is happening around campus tonight. Spring Break started yesterday and most of the students had left for a tropical vacation or a week at home. Clarke and her friends had decided to stay in their house near campus though. None of them could afford any kind of vacation – the fact that any college student could afford a vacation blew her mind – and none of them had a desire to spend a week at home either.

Finally Clarke sighs, and decides to take advantage of the unusually quiet evening. She takes the few steps down from the porch and follows the sidewalk to campus. She lifts the cigarette in her hand to her lips once again, takes one last deep drag, and then tosses the butt onto the sidewalk in front of her. She makes a point to step on it as she approaches it, and then continues.

Her phone buzzes inside her pocket, and she pauses to consider if she wants to check it or not. The breeze loops around her like chilly arms trying to undo her jacket, and she pulls her coat more tightly around her. The students of Arkadia University had gotten too hopeful with the recent heat wave going through campus, but the nights were still colder than expected and she probably should have brought a warmer jacket.

Then her phone vibrates once more against her hand inside her jacket pocket. She rolls her eyes, but smiles anyway, aware that her friends probably only wondered where she had gone. She pulls the phone out of her pocket, her fingers protesting the removal from their cozy pocket home. The screen lights up to reveal three text messages: two from Raven and one from Octavia.

> _Raven: That’s one long ass smoke break you’re taking.  
>  Raven: What the fuck, Clarke? Where'd you go?  
>  _

Clarke giggles and quickly types a response, grateful for her protective (and sometimes overbearing) friend.

> _Clarke: I decided to go for a walk. I’ll be back soon, promise!_

Clarke opens Octavia’s text next while she waits for Raven’s response.

> _Octavia: YOU BAILED ON ME FOR BEER PONG EHAT THE HELL_

Clarke smiles again as she finally reached the edge of campus and continues forward. Octavia had been buzzed before Clarke even arrived, and she's certain that she's really feeling it by now. She types back a quick apology and tells her to ask Raven to be her partner, and then Raven’s response causes her phone to vibrate.

> _Raven: Fine. Try not to get kidnapped. I don’t want to kill anyone tonight, okay?_

Clarke knows that Raven would have been pissed about her taking off without notification on any other night. Raven must feel sorry for her bad mood, and also decided that with everyone on campus gone for spring break, it wasn’t worth the argument. Clarke will be fine and there's nothing to worry about.

She returns the phone to her jacket pocket as she passes by one of her old dorms: Kinghorn Hall. Clarke had lived there her sophomore year, and the building still left a bad taste in her mouth. She had been given a random roommate that year, and while the girl had been nothing but polite to Clarke, the two girls could not have been more opposite if they had tried. However, it actually turned out to be the biggest blessing in disguise. Because Clarke never wanted to stay in her room, she often found herself spending time with a girl she had met during her freshman year Biology class, Raven. Raven introduced Clarke to all of her friends and she quickly became a part of their group, one of their own, and they had all been close ever since.

Clarke offers a small smile as she passes the building and leaves it behind her. Despite everything, living in that building had led her to the best people she’d ever known. She glances up at the navy sky, lit only slightly by the streetlights of Arkadia’s surrounding city. A few bright stars force themselves into sight, shining brighter than the artificial lighting that threatens to drown them out. Clarke loves the stars and she loves the night. She loves the expanse of space and the possibility that it promises, the possibility of more. Clarke would often find herself staring out the window into the night’s sky, casting her every thought onto the dark canvas like a chalkboard. The night made everything clearer and more visible, and Clarke had always found comfort in the sky.

Clarke finally reaches an intersection and decides to cross the street to the left. She pauses to look for cars, and then crosses. The sidewalk leads her past a parking garage and another dorm building, and then she hooks a right to head toward the campus library. The library rises in front of her like a big bully, but Clarke feels nothing but appreciation for the library more than any other building on campus. She could always find refuge in the library, no matter what. If her roommates were being too loud for her to get any studying done, the library always offered her a quiet place to work. But the library also provided space for study groups and countless nights of “studying,” which really just consisted of her and her friends watching YouTube videos and ordering pizza.

Across from the library stands Polis Hall, which basically just serves as the largest lecture hall that Arkadia has to offer. Clarke had only taken one class there her freshman year: COMM 210, otherwise known as Speech. More than six hundred kids poured into the hall every Monday morning at 9am to listen to a fifty-minute lecture that none of them cared about. Clarke had spent almost every lecture playing Tetris or Solitaire on her laptop.

Still, Polis is unlike any other building on campus. Its modern architecture and domed roof make it stand out among the rest, and Clarke likes the building. As she approaches it, she drags her fingers against the rough concrete of its outer wall, smoothening her fingertips in the process.

As Clarke rounds the edge of the building, she hears a few low melodies carried on the wind. She slows down for a moment, but decides that a live band must be playing at one of the bars nearby. However, as she continues walking, Clarke spots a figure sitting along the wall that lines the sidewalk outside of Polis. She cann’t make out much about the figure; just the person has long, thick hair that billows around her shoulders and a guitar on her lap. The girl has her back pushed up against the street light with her back toward Clarke.

The girl strums along through her song, still unaware of Clarke’s presence. Clarke does not want to disturb her, but continues walking forward, though her ears strain to listen to the melody resonating from the instrument.

Clarke never makes eye contact with the girl, but finds that she has to force herself to keep moving forward. She finds herself wanting to stop and listen. The girl clearly has a lot of experience with her guitar, and Clarke has a certain weakness for people with a passion for something.

Still, Clarke never stops to listen. Her ears try to reach back behind her and pull the guitar’s melody along with them, but finally Clarke travels beyond their reach. She finds herself in a better mood all of a sudden though, finally drawn out of her thoughts and into reality. Her warm fingers wrap around the phone tucked inside her coat and pull it out and she types a message out to Raven.

> _Clarke: Girl playing guitar in the middle of campus at 11pm during spring break._

Raven’s response comes almost immediately.

> _Raven: Is she hot?_

Clarke laughs. The response is just so typical Raven.

> _Clarke: I couldn’t really tell. It’s dark and I didn’t want to stare. She’s really fucking good though._

Clarke now stands at the edge of library, Polis Hall far behind her. The road cuts her path in front of her, so that she either has to cross the street or turn left or right along the sidewalk. Clarke opts to go right and make a circle around the library. Maybe she can inconspicuously make another trip past the guitar girl without seeming like too much of a creep.

> _Raven: Don’t talk to her unless she’s hot._

Clarke cann’t stop her eyes from rolling.

> _Clarke: You’re so shallow. You know that, right?  
>  Raven: You say shallow. I say selective. Just trying to look out, Clarke!  
>  _

Clarke tucks the phone back inside her pocket without bothering to respond. She hooks another right at the edge of the library and begins walking toward Polis Hall once more. She can already feel the hyper alertness of her ears scanning the environment for the guitar’s melody. After a few more steps, Clarke finally hears the strings of the acoustic guitar. The girl has switched songs and settled for something with more chords and less plucking, and the major chords sound happy and vibrant.

Clarke walks slower, hesitant to walk too fast past the stranger again. In fact, Clarke can't even see the guitarist yet; she had made another right around the library and had just reached Polis Hall. She knows the guitar player sits just on the other side the building, but maybe she could stay enough out of sight that she could still listen.

After a few more steps, Clarke sees the guitarist with her back still pushed up against the light post. The guitar’s chords ring loud and clear through the crisp night air, and Clarke makes a decision. Several benches line the wall outside the library, and Clarke takes a seat on the closest one. She isn’t totally out of the girl’s line of sight, but she is still somewhat behind her and most likely would remain unseen. She pulls out her phone to make herself look busy doing something, but her full attention lingers on the guitarist.

From this angle, Clarke still can't see much of the girl. Her hair is definitely brunette, and it's wild. The curls weave in and out of each other, pulled back into a messy ponytail that falls halfway down her back. Other than that, Clarke can’t tell much else. She still faces away from Clarke with the guitar on her lap.

> _Clarke: I could totally date a guitarist._  
>  _Raven: You could totally date a hot guitarist._  
>  _Clarke: Still can't tell if she's hot._  
>  _Raven: Grow a pair, Clarke. Go talk to her._

Clarke stares at the words on the screen for a moment. On any other night in any other situation, Clarke wouldn’t think twice about walking up to the girl and starting up a conversation. It’s not like it even would even be difficult. The girl was literally playing guitar in the middle of campus; she was practically begging to be talked to. But for some reason, Clarke stays in her seat on the cold bench, staring down at her phone, one ear still trained on the music.

Actually, she doesn't really even have to focus on the music anymore to hear it. The music cuts through the air like a sharp knife through butter. But then Clarke really starts to listen and her heart starts to race as she hears lyrics accompany the guitar. The girl’s voice is smooth and velvety, effortlessly elevating the chords with new bravado. Clarke’s eyes still stare down at the phone in her hands, the screen now black with inactivity. The guitarist must really be feeling her music right now, because she keeps singing louder. The notes reach Clarke’s ears with precision, each one perfectly matched to the chords of the guitar. The cacophony of notes paired into one unison chord, mixing rhythmically and beautifully.

And then Clarke feels the hair stand up on the back of her neck, and blood rushes to her cheeks, because she can see someone approaching her now. She’s caught. Someone knows she’s been sitting here listening to this stranger play guitar in the dark in the middle of campus. But then it dawns on her, and Clarke raises her head to look up. It’s not just someone approaching her, it’s _her_. The girl strums her guitar effortlessly as she strides up to Clarke, the guitar hanging over her shoulder by a rainbow guitar strap. But Clarke can’t even respond to the shock of this girl walking toward her, because she is too startled by how beautiful she is.

She smiles while she sings, her lips pulled up at the corners even as she mouths the words. Clarke isn’t sure where to look, because she can tell she’s staring. Eye contact proves too awkward, so she settles on her lips. Bad idea. “ _Keep it together, Clarke,_ ” she thinks to herself, before settling for watching the girl’s hands. The fingers of her left hand dance some unknown choreography on the neck of the guitar, pressing on strings in a seemingly random pattern that Clarke doesn’t understand. Whatever she’s doing, it’s working because a guitar has never sounded so good.

Clarke keeps her eyes on her hands, trying to understand why she places them where she does. It doesn’t matter though, because Clarke knows nothing about instruments or what makes them work. Finally the girl’s voice softens and she strums the chords slower, letting the last one ring out with the final word of the lyrics. Clarke can’t stop smiling, and the girl fakes a half-bow. Clarke offers her some enthusiastic applause.

“Thank you, thank you,” the girl offers, chuckling. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone now.” And before Clarke knows it, the girl has turned her back and starts walking back toward her seat against the light pole. The smile falls from her face, replaced by a lot of confusion and a little bit of intrigue.

Clarke’s phone still sits in her hand, and brings Clarke back to reality as a text message causes the phone to vibrate and screen to light up.

> _Raven: DID YOU TALK TO HER YET_

Clarke reads the text but offers no response, physical or otherwise. The phone vibrates again. It’s Octavia this time.

> _Octavia: Ray said youn found arand om gir on campus bring herrh home@#!!!_

Clearly Octavia has finally reached her limit. Clarke closes the conversation and pulls Raven’s back up and types a response.

> _Clarke: Um she kind of just serenaded me and she’s fucking gorgeous_  
>  _Raven: Okay but Clarke you're not answering my single goddamn question. Have you talked to her yet?_  
>  _Clarke: No._  
>  _Raven: I'm going to kill you. GO TALK TO HER NOW_

Raven’s right. Clarke locks her phone and tucks it away. Before she has time to reconsider, Clarke stands from her seat and starts closing the distance between her and the brunette. It takes less time than Clarke thought though, and she finds herself five feet away from the girl before she realizes she has no idea what she’s going to say. It’s too late now though, because the brunette is already aware of her arrival and stares at her as she approaches. Clarke swears she sees a smirk tugging at the corner of the girl’s lips.

“Hey, um,” she pushes her hands into the back pockets of her skinny jeans. “That was really great.”

The smirk becomes a confident smile, and the girl nods. “Thank you, I had a great audience.”

Clarke loves the confidence, and she swoons momentarily before she catches herself. “Do you make it a habit to serenade strangers in the middle of the night?”

The girl raises an eyebrow. “Do you make it a habit to watch unknowing strangers from afar in the middle of the night?”

Clarke opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. She really doesn’t have a good reply for that one. She closes her mouth and smiles, before offering a hand. “I’m Clarke.”

The brunette takes her hand and shakes it briefly. “It’s nice to meet you, Clarke. I’m Lexa.”


	2. Chapter 2

Back across campus, Clarke’s house raves as the party continues. Raven weaves in and out between the crowd, trying to keep track of her friends while simultaneously making sure the house remains standing. They’ve thrown a few good parties in their day, but this one might break the record. People push and shove each other, leaning against walls simply because there’s nowhere else to go. Raven makes a mental note that she knows less than half of these people, and realizes that word of the party must have gotten around to the locals because these are certainly not all students from Arkadia.

Raven searches for a way out of the thriving crowd, but sees no break in the sea of bodies dancing around her. A guy begins to dance behind her, placing his hands on her hips and trying to convince her to join him. Raven hesitates for a moment, a very short moment, before turning around and swinging her fist into the right side of his jaw. The frat boy staggers backwards, using his right hand to nurse his jaw while his left still holds firmly to his beer.

“What the fuck?” He obviously doesn’t have much experience with rejection, and Raven notices that he’s actually kind of cute. Maybe on some other night, he might have had better luck, but Raven’s patience has begun to run thin. Clarke should have been back by now, and she hasn’t heard from the girl in well over an hour. Meanwhile, Octavia has passed out upstairs and the party shows little sign of slowing down, and Raven has been left to manage the ordeal by herself.

“Listen, help me get some of these people out of my house, and I won’t kick you out with them,” she puts her hand on the back of the boy’s neck and pulls him close to whisper in his ear. He resists for a moment, still rubbing his sore jaw, but concedes and then nods. Raven turns around and dives back into the crowd of people, leaving the boy to his duty and praying that he has the capability to shut it down.

Raven makes her rounds around the house again, checking on her friends in the individual rooms as she goes. Murphy, Jasper, Monty, and Bellamy still huddle around the beer pong table. More than half of the cups still remain and it seems like the boys are arguing over house rules. The game will probably never end, and that’s okay because at least Raven can count on them to stay in one place.

She heads upstairs next to make sure that Octavia is still in her bed, preferably alone. She knocks on the door gently. After hearing nothing in response, she pushes the door open and steps inside. Octavia is curled into a ball in the corner of her bed pushed against the wall, but she’s not alone. Raven feels her fists bunch as she prepares to kick some horny frat guy out of bed, but then relaxes as she spots curls of long hair pouring onto the white sheets from under the blanket. Harper must have decided she’d had enough for the night as well.

A gentle smile tugs at Raven’s mouth, although any trace of alcohol has now completely left her system. She pulls her phone out of her pocket to see if Clarke has responded yet – nothing. A sigh falls from her lips and the smile fades as she turns around to head back downstairs, and then she collides with a person behind her, hard.

“OW! Finn, what the fuck?” Raven pushes the boy off of her and he raises his arms in defense as he takes a few steps backwards.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were going to turn around so fast. Everything okay?” Finn has known the girl longer than anyone else here at Arkadia. They went to high school together and they have a past, and he could still read her like a book sometimes. Raven sighs.

“This fucking party will not end. Clarke took off at 11 and it’s almost 2 now and I haven’t heard from her since like 12:30, but I can’t leave to go look for her. I don’t know half the fucking people in this house and I’m not even fucking drunk anymore!” Raven’s breaths come fast and heavy by the time she stops talking and she surprises even herself with how quickly she got angry. Finn raises his eyebrows before stepping closer to her, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“Okay, first, just breathe. Everything’s fine.” Raven glares at him but takes a few deep breaths anyway. “The party is pretty much dead actually, so you can check that off of your list of things to worry about.”

“Wait, really?” Raven sounds hopeful, and then realizes that she can no longer hear the pounding music and the general noise of the party downstairs has all but completely subsided. She smiles out of sheer disbelief. Guess it turns out that frat boy really wasn’t so bad after all.

“Yeah, a ton of people were leaving as I walked in. Some guy was kicking people out and telling them to take it over to the bars before last call,” Finn shrugged, not having much else to say. “But where’s Clarke? What do you mean she took off?”

“I don’t know, she was in some kind of mood by the time I got home. I don’t even think she was drunk, but we went outside to smoke a cig and then I came inside and she never came back. She said she decided to go for a walk, but she hasn’t texted me for a long time,” Raven responded, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and biting down nervously. Clarke knew how to take care of herself, of course, but Raven still worried.

“Do you want me to go look for her?” Finn asked, and Raven shook her head.

“No, I’ll go. Can you please just keep an eye on things here until I get back?” Finn nodded. “Thank you so much. Octavia and Harper are passed out in Octavia’s room, so they should be fine. The guys are all downstairs arguing over a game of beer pong like they have been for the last hour.”

Raven gave Finn a hug before heading downstairs. Finn really hadn’t been joking about the dead party, because it was practically a different house now that people had left. The only few that remained were her best friends, a few people she knew from class, and those who were too drunk to walk. The frat boy stood next to a kid who sat slumped over on the cooler, handing him a glass of water and coaxing him to drink.

The frat boy and Raven locked eyes for a second as she pulled on her jacket, and Raven nodded and mouthed a thank you in his direction. He smiled back politely and nodded, and then Raven opened the front door and started off down the sidewalk toward campus.

 

\-------

 

Clarke’s fingers hurt.

The cold air of the passing night has grown unforgiving, and not even the pockets of her coat could insulate the warmth enough to provide any relief. She can feel her phone vibrating against her frozen hands, but can’t bring herself to unravel her fingers in order to look at it. Clarke wonders if she will ever regain the function in her fingers after tonight, and then her phone vibrates once more.

Clarke sits beside Lexa now, her feet hanging off the wall as Lexa stays in her usual spot. She lazily plucks some melodies out of her guitar between small talk and short stories.

“Someone must be trying really hard to get a hold of you, Clarke Griffin,” Lexa smirks, still plucking away at the strings. “Not up for a booty call tonight?”

Clarke chuckles, glancing over at Lexa. Even in the darkness, Clarke could not mistake the greens of her eyes and the playfulness that shimmered there. She has to remind herself not to stare, and locks her eyes back onto Lexa’s fingers instead. They have become her safe spot throughout the night, and Clarke has even begun to pick up on some of the chords she plays.

“I’m sure it’s just my overprotective roommate trying to make sure I haven’t been kidnapped or anything,” Clarke replies.

“It’s a valid concern, you know. Nothing but a bunch of crazies around here at night, and stalkers on park benches.” Lexa laughs, and then pulls the guitar off her lap. She swings her legs down along the wall and sits next to Clarke rather than with her back against the light pole.

“I was just trying to appreciate your damn music!” Clarke laughs and pushes Lexa gently on the shoulder. Lexa laughs too, and Clarke can’t stop herself from smiling wider. She has to wonder for a moment how the night led her here, but then decides she doesn’t care. The night made a complete 180 since she met Lexa, and she’s glad she abandoned the party at her house and wandered through campus instead.

“Okay, okay. I guess I’ll stop giving you a hard time then,” Lexa replies, and then places the guitar between her legs and lets it rest on the ground.

“How are your fingers not totally numb?” Clarke asks, wondering how she’s been able to play this whole time and Clarke can’t even bring herself to look at her phone. Lexa laughs and holds her hands out in front of her. They are red with cold, but her lithe fingers still move without wavering.

“They’re completely numb, actually,” Lexa says. “But my fingers are covered in calluses from playing so much and I’m pretty used to not having a lot of feeling in them.”

“Wow, how long have you been playing?” Clarke asks. The two girls had made small talk throughout the night, but it was mostly impersonal banter. Clarke didn’t know much about the girl except that her name was Lexa and she had the most gorgeous green eyes she had ever seen.

“I started playing when I was six,” is all that Lexa offers in response before settling into silence. Clarke nods silently, not sure if Lexa doesn’t like to talk about herself or if she simply has no interest in the conversation anymore. She kicks her legs out and then lets her heels bounce against the wall as they swing back down.

“I used to play the saxophone in fifth grade,” Clarke offered with a shrug, staring at the lights of the library. She can see lights in various rooms shutting off and knows that the janitors are preparing to lock the doors for the night. That means the time must be approaching 3 am, and she runs her fingers along the edge of the phone in her pocket. Raven is most certainly going to kill her when she gets home.

“Why’d you stop?” Lexa asks, her face fully turned toward Clarke, and Clarke suddenly feels self-conscious under her stare. She can feel the blood start to rush to her cheeks before she can stop it, so she turns away from Lexa to disguise it.

“My mom hated it,” she says with an unconvincing chuckle. “She worked long hours at the hospital and she said it gave her headaches, so she told me that she didn’t have time to take me to rehearsals and concerts.”

Lexa doesn’t respond, and Clarke still can’t bring herself to look back at the girl, knowing that traces of red still linger in her cheeks. Clarke and her mom didn’t have the best relationship, but it wasn’t the worst mother-daughter relationship either. Clarke was so much like her mother that they couldn’t help but argue sometimes. Sometimes they would get along great, like two best friends, but when they fought, they _really_ fought. Ever since her father died during her sophomore year of high school, things had gotten worse between the two of them. They fought more and more often, which ultimately lead to Clarke choosing a school away from home.

Clarke’s thoughts disappear as she feels a brush of skin against her fingertips gripping the concrete beside her. Clarke hadn’t even realized she had taken her hands out of her pockets, but now she has become painfully aware of their frozen nature and the white-knuckle grip she had on the edge of her seat. Lexa does not pry or try to loosen her grip; she only rests her hand on top of Clarke’s, like two ice blocks huddled together. Lexa opens her mouth to speak, but the words never fall.

“GRIFFIN, I SWEAR I AM GOING TO BEAT YOUR ASS!”

Lexa’s hand retreats quickly as the bubble around the two girls suddenly bursts with the presence of a third body. Clarke doesn’t even have to look up to know the source, and Lexa raises an eyebrow at her in question.

“Overprotective roommate,” Clarke mutters matter-of-factly as Raven emerges from the shadows, bathing herself in the light of Lexa’s lamppost. Her breath hangs in the air as she huffs her frustration. She must have booked it across campus because her lungs gasp for air and she has to bend over to catch her breath. Her hands go straight to her hips as she stands before Clarke.

“Would it kill you to answer your fucking phone? Just one fucking courtesy text? Just one, ‘Hey Rae, I’m not dead, the guitar girl didn’t murder me and I’m just over here making heart eyes at her.’ It’s not that hard!”

Lexa laughs under her breath, but then brings her hand to her mouth quickly to cover it up. The blood rushes to Clarke’s face all over again, with reinforcements this time. Her face burns and Raven knew it would because she’d done it on purpose. A smirk stretches across her face and Clarke glares in response, while Lexa soaks up the moment. She lives for this kind of banter.

“I think that’s my cue. You should go home Clarke,” Lexa says as she steps down off the wall, hanging her guitar around her neck and pushing it onto her back as she does so.

“I don’t have to go yet,” Clarke protests, but she still removes herself from her seat.

“Like hell you don’t,” Raven says with an exasperated roll of her eyes. “It’s 3:30 and you have no idea what kind of creeps are out here at this time of night.”

Clarke glares again, the look becoming a signature of hers, and Lexa chuckles.

“Yeah, I told you, remember? All kinds of creeps and stalkers.” Lexa flashes that smile in Clarke’s direction once more, and Clarke can’t tell if her knees shake because of that smile or if they have finally frozen solid in the cold.

“You should listen to Guitar Girl. She knows what she’s talking about,” Raven says as Lexa turns away from the pair to start walking in the opposite direction.

“I should go home anyway. I’ll see you around, Clarke,” Lexa says, her gaze lingering on Clarke for just a second longer than necessary. Clarke waves half-heartedly. She smiles and turns to walk away, and then she calls back over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Overprotective Roommate!”

“Bye, Guitar Girl!” Raven calls after her, a shit-eating grin splitting her face in half. Clarke glares at her for the third time in the past ten minutes, and then punches the girl hard in the shoulder. “What was that for?!” Raven cries, still laughing, still smiling.

Clarke doesn’t bother to respond, but a smile spreads across her face anyway. Pain in the ass though she may be, Clarke loves Raven like a sister and she could never blame her for being her overprotective self.

“Now we’re even, asshole,” Clarke tells her, and then laces her arms with Raven as they begin to make the trip back to their house. The night has grown even colder and the wind more harsh as it whips the girls’ hair around their faces. They huddle close together, arms still laced but hands tucked tightly into their pockets of their coats.

Clarke and Raven walk in silence, mostly due to the fact that any words uttered would just get carried away by the wind before ever falling on the other girl’s ears, but also because Clarke cannot stop thinking about Lexa. She’d spent only a few hours with the girl and they hadn’t really talked about anything substantial. She didn’t even know the girl’s last name, which she suddenly realizes and silently cursed herself for not asking. But still, images of green eyes haloed by the yellow light of the streetlamp swam through her mind. She could still see her long, delicate fingers dance along the guitar strings with ease and precision. She wanted to hear the girl sing again, wanted to see her smile, and damn it, she wanted to know her last fucking name.

 

\-------

 

Twenty minutes later, the two girls throw open the front door to their house and eagerly step inside. The warmth immediately welcomes them home and wraps itself around their frozen figures. Raven sheds her coat and hangs it on the banister, but Clarke just stands in the entryway, feeling the heat creep into her toes and fingers for the first time in hours. Clarke wants to bottle the sensation and relive it over and over. Her toes move and she can actually feel them, and she finally uncurls her fingers without them aching in protest.

After a few minutes of relief and delight, Clarke finally removes her jacket and kicks her shoes into the corner of the hallway, and then she notices two things. First, the house is a fucking wreck. Beer bottles and solo cups litter the floor by the dozen. As she begins to walk across the floor, she can already feel the spilled alcohol seeping through her socks, and so she quickly puts her shoes back on before proceeding. The next thing she notices is that she knows all of the people sitting in the living room except for one.

The two couches in the living room rest against perpendicular walls with a coffee table situated between the two. Octavia has placed herself between Bellamy and the guy Clarke doesn’t know on one couch. Bellamy seems annoyed and Octavia doesn’t seem to care at all, and the guy just seems confused and out of place. The other couch holds Finn, Jasper, and Monty. Monty has his head tilted back with his mouth wide open, either passed out or sleeping. Same difference, right? A third person – Clarke assumes Murphy – stretches out on the floor in front of the coffee table and snores quietly in his sleep.

“Where’s the girl?” Octavia calls from the couch. The nap must have sobered her up quite a bit because she hardly seems drunk at all at this point. She sits on the couch with her legs curled underneath her next to the boy that Clarke doesn’t know.

“Raven scared her away with her big mouth,” Clarke scoffs, still holding a grudge. She crosses the living room and finds a seat next to Jasper on the opposite couch. Raven smirks proudly before perching on the edge of the coffee table.

“Hey, don’t blame me. All you had to do was shoot me a text,” Raven explains, but secretly she enjoyed the event. It gave her an excuse to dump the party on someone else’s hands, and she got to embarrass Clarke. What more could the girl possibly ask for?

“Wait a second, what girl?” Bellamy questions.

“Clarke found herself a girl on campus,” Raven offers. “Playing guitar out in the cold for some unknown, ridiculous reason. She had her head stuck so far up her ass that she couldn’t let her concerned roommate know where she disappeared to.”

“Can we talk about the random dude sitting in the living room before Raven gets started on this? Because I’m sure she could go on for hours,” Clarke asks, gesturing toward the man sitting on the couch next to Octavia. He seems older than the rest of them, but not by much. His biceps bulge beneath his t-shirt and his eyes scan the room, taking everything in. Clarke can definitely tell why Octavia seems glued to his side.

“Oh, sorry. I’m Lincoln,” he introduces himself, raising a hand in greeting.

“Lincoln saved the house from being even more of a mess than it already is,” Raven explained. “He finally got people to leave when I came to find you.” Then Raven turns her attention to Lincoln. “By the way, thanks for that. I don’t know how you did it, but seriously, thank you. Also, sorry for punching you in the face.”

Lincoln laughs and then nods. “It wasn’t a problem at all,” he responds. “I probably did deserve that punch though. Sorry for being a drunk asshole.” Raven accepts his apology and then shares the story with the rest of the room. Still, Clarke can’t exactly peg why Lincoln still sits here in a room full of people that don’t know him. Although, it probably has something to do with the brunette sitting attentively next to him, or maybe he’s just a loser and doesn’t have any friends. Either way, Clarke shrugs it off.

“So about this girl…” Jasper prompts, returning the attention to more important matters.

“Sorry to disappoint, but there really isn’t anything to tell. She played guitar and I may have stalked her for a bit, but then she caught me and then she played a song for me and then we just talked.” Clarke can’t get the words out of her mouth fast enough, trying to downplay the situation as much as possible. Truthfully, she didn’t have to downplay much, because that really is all that happened. She met a girl who sang a song for her and then they talked. No big deal.

“Let me get this straight. You sat outside in the cold for almost three hours to listen to a girl play guitar? And then all you did was talk?” Finn questions, furrowing his eyebrow in disbelief. “I call bullshit.”

Clarke glances around the room while the rest of her friends nod in agreement. She sighs and props her elbow on the arm of the couch so that she can rest her head on her hand. “I don’t know what else you guys want me to say!”

“Was she hot?” Jasper inquires.

“So hot,” Raven responded. “You better keep an eye on Guitar Girl, Clarke. I might make a move on that one.”

Clarke feels a wave of jealousy boil low in her stomach, but quickly forces it to dissipate, reminding herself that she has nothing to be jealous of. “ _You’re being insane,_ ” she tells herself. It’s insane to feel anything about a girl that she’s only known for a few hours, a girl whose last name she doesn’t even know. As if on cue, Bellamy speaks up.

“What’s her name?” He questions, and the room looks at Raven. Raven just shrugs in response, although she plans on calling her Guitar Girl for as long as possible.

“Lexa,” Clarke responds. “Her name is Lexa.”

“Lexa Stone? Oh man, she is hot!” Octavia calls out.

“Is it Lexa or Alexa? Because Alexa Washington can play guitar for me any time she wants,” Jasper says.

Clarke laughs and shakes her head. “I have no idea,” she says, laughing at herself just as much as she laughs at her friends.

“No last name? Really, Griff? You’re slipping.” Finn shakes his head at her.

“Why didn’t you bring her home?” Octavia questions.

Clarke laughs and shrugs in response. She doesn’t know how she let the last name slide by either, but suddenly Clarke’s limbs have grown heavy and she can feel the exhaustion settling in. The remnants of the cold ache in her joints and all she wants to do is put on her pajamas and crawl into bed.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. However, those tricks will have to wait until morning, because I need sleep.” Clarke stands up from the couch and says goodnight to her friends before heading upstairs. The mess can wait until morning. She knows the house is going to need an entire day of cleaning, and she grimaces at the thought but leaves it for tomorrow.

Clarke climbs the stairs to her room, her legs and feet beginning to feel like cinder blocks attached to her body. Her bones and muscles are finally getting back at her for the freezing temperatures she made them endure, but she has zero regrets. As soon as she closes the bedroom door behind her, Clarke immediately removes her sweater and bra and trades them for an oversized t-shirt. Then she kicks off her shoes and socks, tossing them lazily across the room. She slides out of her skinny jeans and replaces them with a comfy pair of sweatpants instead.

Five minutes later, Clarke crashes into her bed with a freshly washed face and clean teeth. Her blankets welcome her with love and affection, and Clarke thinks she will never feel as loved by anyone as she does when she curls into her bed. She pulls the cord of her phone charger over to her bed and plugs in her phone, surprised to see a notification light up on her screen. Her breath catches in her throat as she reads the words, and then she smiles so fiercely that she doesn’t even feel tired anymore.

_“Lexa Woods has sent you a Facebook friend request.”_

\-------

Lexa feels light-headed and light-hearted as she strolls away from the blonde and her roommate. It takes sheer determination to keep placing one foot in front of the other, because all she wants to do is keep talking to Clarke and learn everything she can about the girl. It’s not an unknown feeling to Lexa, and she feels her stomach clench as she realizes this. She urges herself to push her insecurities aside. She tries to stop thinking about the broken heart that she’s barely holding together inside her chest.  She shakes her head in frustration, casting the thoughts out into the darkness. No, this isn’t that. Not anywhere even close to the vicinity of real feelings. Lexa spent the last few hours getting to know a stranger, and that’s all.

Finally Lexa exhales, and the reality of the evening settles in, and she feels a smile tug at her lips. Regardless of what happens next, Lexa enjoyed Clarke’s company and the conversation they had shared. Before she knows it, Lexa finds herself walking across an empty parking lot and approaching her car. It’s a little Pontiac Sunfire dated back to 2004, and quite frankly, it’s a piece of shit. However, the car gets her from A to B and Lexa has grown very fond of the little blue car she calls Kurt.

After placing her guitar safely in the back seat, Lexa jumps in the front and turns the car on. She cranks the heat all the way up and turns the fans on full blast, desperate to bring warmth back into her body. Her knees shake so vigorously that they hurt and so she tries to distract herself from the cold by engaging herself in the antics of Facebook until the car warms up. She scrolls past countless videos and status updates, but likes nothing and interacts with nobody, and then her phone vibrates.

> _Anya: Care to grace us with your presence anytime soon?_

Lexa’s thumbs stumble across the touch screen as she types out a response.

> _Lexa: Sorry, I got carried away. On my way home now._

She tosses the phone onto the passenger’s seat beside her, and then focuses on the drive home. Lexa puts the car in drive and pulls out of her same parking space onto the same road she drives on every day. She gets caught at the same red light she always gets caught at, and then drives past the same cop that hides behind a line of trees like he does every night. Lexa has spent her whole life in this town. She grew up here, went to high school here, and then went to college here too. The thought brings her a sense of comfort, but also disappoints her. She’d always thought that she would have so much more, and she always wanted so much more, but never had the courage to reach for it.

Ten minutes later, Lexa and her little blue car pull into the parking lot of her apartment building. After retrieving her guitar from the backseat, she locks the doors, tells Kurt goodnight, and climbs the stairs to the third floor.

The front door opens before she even has a chance to put her key in the lock.

“Not that I’m your mom or anything, but where the hell have you been?” A tall girl with light brown hair stands in the doorway, sleep evident in her eyes. Her tank top and shorts provide little barrier against the wind that crosses the threshold into the apartment and she wraps her arms around her chest. Lexa rushes inside and closes the door behind her, and the girl follows her into the apartment.

“I didn’t realize it had gotten so late. I started talking to this girl and I just lost track of time,” she explains, turning on the kitchen light. She then discards her guitar and removes her denim jacket.

“Anya?” a voice calls from down the hall. Seconds later, a shirtless man stumbles from the shadows and into the light.

“It’s okay, Nyko. Lexa just got home. I’ll come back to bed soon,” the girl named Anya responds, and Nyko nods sleepily before heading back to his bedroom.

Anya turns back to Lexa and eyes her suspiciously. Lexa has always been the rebellious one between the two girls, leaving Anya to be the mother Lexa never had and probably never wanted either.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. We’ll talk about this girl that keeps you out all night in the morning, all right?” The end of the sentence trails off into a yawn, and Lexa’s heart swells with affection. Anya had been the only person who ever gave a shit about Lexa throughout her life, and Lexa felt the overwhelming gratefulness wash over her. She nods and then watches Anya drag her feet back to her room, sleep following closely on her heels.

Lexa heads down the same hallway, but passes Anya’s door and opts for the one at the end of the hall. She flicks the lights on and places her guitar on its stand in the corner of the room. Aside from the guitar stand, the room shows zero reflection of the person who lives there. No posters, no decorations, no pictures hanging on the walls. A full-size, unmade bed stands in the middle of the room, and then there’s a dresser against the far wall, and a small desk placed in front of the window. A small bookcase sits between her bedroom door and the door to her own bathroom.

Lexa immediately begins discarding clothing and tossing them on the floor. The fact that it’s nearly four in the morning is suddenly blaringly obvious and Lexa has to fight the urge to collapse onto her bed and fall into a deep sleep. She heads to the bathroom instead and turns on the shower and waits for the water to get as hot as possible. Twenty minutes later, Lexa turns off her bedroom light and crawls under the blankets. Her wet hair sprawls out on the pillow beneath her head, drenching her pillowcase, but exhaustion renders her too tired to care. She finds herself scrolling through Facebook once again when curiosity peaks her interest. She taps the search bar at the top of the screen and types in a name.

Seconds later, Lexa sees Clarke’s face smiling back at her through the screen of her phone. The poor lighting of the evening didn’t do Clarke justice, because Lexa can’t believe the shades of blue swirling around in the girl’s eyes. Before she even has time to think about it, Lexa taps the button on the blonde’s homepage. Lexa doesn’t even allow herself to think about it. She just locks her phone and tucks it underneath her pillow before closing her eyes and drifting off.

Friend request sent.


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke wakes the next morning taken aback. She half-expects her head to pound with the abuse of a hangover, and then finds herself satisfied and confused when she realizes she actually feels great. She pushes herself up in bed and glances around the room, the events of the previous night slowly coming back to her in pieces. That’s right. No hangover because she left the party early and returned stone cold sober after Raven chased Lexa off. Right.

A yawn falls past her lips as she raises her arms in the air to stretch, a little moan escaping with the release of breath. The early morning sunlight illuminates her room and Clarke assumes that it’s around eight in the morning. She’s only had about four hours of sleep, but she feels no remnants of exhaustion in her body. Her fingers instinctually reach for her cell phone to check the time. When the screen lights up, Clarke sees Lexa’s friend request still gazing back at her. She must have passed out before she even had a chance to investigate her profile, let alone accept.

She presses her thumb to the picture of Lexa’s face and her profile comes up. Lexa stands with two other girls in her profile picture, all three caught mid-laugh with their mouths wide open. The two girls have their eyes closed, but Lexa stares straight at the camera and her green eyes cause Clarke’s breath to falter. Even in the dark of night, the brunette’s green eyes had mesmerized Clarke, but this picture reveals them in sunlight. The sunlight strikes her at all the right angles, and the greens reflect shades of brown and a ring of gold around the outside of her iris. Clarke feels her heart to start to beat noticeably faster, just as it had the night before, and she forces herself to scroll through the pictures.

Lexa doesn’t seem to post much on her Facebook. Most of the pictures there are ones she’s tagged in, and they’re mostly pictures of her with her guitar. Clarke learns that she has several tattoos and feels herself start to drool before she can correct herself. She has one particular tattoo on her arm that accentuates the muscles beneath her skin, and Clarke has to force herself to scroll past that one too before she stares too long. Lexa is also seen in several pictures with one girl in particular: a tall, pretty brunette, though her hair is much lighter than Lexa’s. The girl’s gaze is intense and her smile never seems to reach her eyes, and Clarke doesn’t know why, but she always feels like the girl is guarding Lexa.

After a few more minutes of stalking and drooling over Lexa’s tattoos, Clarke finally hits the accept button and a notification shows up on her newsfeed. “Clarke Griffin and Lexa Woods are now friends,” it reads, and it makes Clarke’s stomach flutter in a silly sort of way that she doesn’t know how to interpret. Her gaze rises toward the ceiling and then she falls backwards into her bed, her head crashing onto the pillow and throwing her blonde hair out around her. She needs to stop thinking about Lexa Woods and her stupid tattoos and the way her smile makes her smile, but at least she knows her last name now.

“Time to get up, Clarke!” The bedroom door flies open, and Clarke hears the words but doesn’t have the time to react before a body leaps on top of her. Raven’s dark hair falls over her face like a curtain and Raven laughs as Clarke groans. Raven pokes at the girl’s side and Clarke flinches, raising a stern finger at Raven and shooting her a threatening glare.

“Raven, no,” she says sternly. “If you tickle me, I swear, I will kill you.”

Raven rolls her eyes, not threatened by the girl at all. Everyone knows Clarke’s bark is worse than her bite. Meanwhile, Raven’s bite and her bark are both equally terrifying. Nonetheless, the girl backs off and sits up on the edge of Clarke’s bed, her legs hanging over the side. She turns back to look at Clarke, who has thrown a pillow over her face in hopes of blocking Raven out.

“I’m still here, you know,” Raven says, and Clarke lets out a groan.

“I know, but I hoped if I ignored you long enough you’d get bored and leave.”

“Never gonna happen, Clarkey-poo. You’re stuck with me.” Raven pokes the girl’s side through the blankets and Clarke flinches again, pulling the pillow off her face and revealing another one of those not-so-threatening glares. “Come on. We have a huge mess to clean up.”

“I wasn’t even here for the party. Why do I have to clean up?” Clarke whines. She’s not exactly a 50’s housewife; cleaning just isn’t her thing.

“Because you abandoned me here with all of these people and it’s just as much your damn fault that the place is a mess,” Raven explains. “Plus, I can’t peel Octavia off of Lincoln long enough to get her to help, so get your ass out of bed and let’s get this over with.”

Raven pulls the blankets away from Clarke and tosses them onto the floor, leaving her covered by nothing but her t-shirt and underwear. She must have kicked her sweats off at some point during the night, and she can already feel the goosebumps forming on the length of her exposed legs.

“You suck,” she mutters, hoisting herself out of bed to search for her disbanded sweatpants. Raven smirks.

“See you downstairs, sunshine,” she calls out as she exits the room and heads downstairs.

Clarke curses the girl under her breath. She finds her sweatpants tangled up in the blankets strewn across the floor. Clarke pulls them over her unprotected legs and then finds a fuzzy pair of socks and an old softball hoodie from high school to accompany them. Being a poor college student doesn’t leave much room in the budget to keep the house at tropical temperatures, so Clarke has had to learn the art of layers to stay warm.

A few minutes later, Clarke trudges down the stairs and into the living room. Raven has already picked up most of the solo cups and beer bottles, but the floor is still sticky with alcohol and various bits of trash litter the floor. Octavia and Lincoln look like they haven’t moved at all since last night. Octavia has her legs tucked underneath her as she turns to face Lincoln completely; her left elbow perches on the back of the couch so that her head can rest on her hand. Lincoln seems equally engaged in the conversation, his hands moving in robust gestures to exaggerate whatever story he tells her. Octavia never stops smiling.

“Hungry?” Bellamy calls from the kitchen. Clarke makes her way in that direction, following the smell of sizzling bacon. She finds Bellamy standing by the stove and Jasper and Monty sit at the kitchen table. Jasper has a deck of cards spread out in a game of Solitaire, and Monty has his head flat on the table. Clarke glances at him, then to Bellamy. Bellamy only shrugs and laughs.

“Feeling okay there, Monty?” Clarke says through a laugh and she claps him on the back. Monty groans in response. Jasper shakes his head and clicks his tongue.

“I told you not to do shots of vodka after drinking all that beer,” he says in an I-told-you-so tone. “Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. Beer before liquor, never sicker.”

“If you don’t stop talking, I’m going to punch you.” Monty says the words without ever lifting his head, and the words drip with hostility.

“Leave Monty alone,” Bellamy says. He walks over to the table and places a big plate of bacon and scrambled eggs between the two. “Bacon grease is the best cure for a hangover.”

Jasper reaches for the crispiest piece of bacon on the plate, and it crunches loudly as he bites down into it. “You’d make a great housewife, Bell.”

“Damn straight,” Bellamy jokes and then returns to the stove to cook the next package of bacon. Clarke reaches for a piece of her own and then walks over to stand next to him. It only takes two seconds before the bacon grease leaps from the pan and singes her arms, and she takes a step back.

“Did Octavia even sleep last night?” Clarke asks, and she can see Bellamy become tense. He glances through the doorway and into the living room where Octavia laughs at something Lincoln says.

“They talked all night,” he says, returning his attention to the sizzling meat. “Fucker just won’t leave.” Bellamy finishes the sentence with a smile and glances at Clarke, but she knows that he’s only pretending to joke. Clarke places a comforting hand on his back, knowing that the boy struggles with the urge to protect his sister at all costs, even when he doesn’t have to.

“There you are!” Raven drags a trash bag full of bottles into the kitchen, the glass clinking and clanking against the linoleum tiles. Sweat beads form on her forehead, but she brushes them away before they threaten to slide down her face. “Finn and Murphy said they’ll take the trash out for us. Most of it’s all picked up. Ready to help me mop the floor?”

“I am your humble servant,” Clarke says and bows low in mockery. Raven rolls her eyes at the girl’s theatrics and shoves her shoulder.

“As you should be,” she teases as she crouches down in front of the sink to retrieve cleaning supplies from the cabinet. She pulls out two buckets, some soap, and some washcloths. Clarke withdraws her antics, suddenly faced with the task of real, actual cleaning.

“I was only kidding, Rae. You know I’m not actually Cinderella, right?” She eyes the girl, her eyes widened slightly. Raven laughs.

“Today, that’s exactly who you are.”

\-------

Almost two hours later, Clarke can’t feel her knees anymore. Well, she can, but she’d rather not because all she can feel is them slowly turning black and blue. She had spent the past two hours on her hands and knees, dragging soapy washcloths across the floor in an attempt to rid the floor of the sticky alcohol. The heavily soaked areas had to be washed more than once, and Clarke has already made it a forever rule to call a party foul every single time someone spills a drink at their next party. Either they lick up the mess or die, because Clarke can’t take another day of Cinderella-ing the floors of her house.

She has two of the thicker towels tied around her knees, trying to use them as cushions for her sore knee caps and also a way to speed up the cleaning process. It hadn’t been a bad idea, but the execution left much to be desired. The towels kept coming untied or falling down the length of her calf and it made more of a mess than anything. The soapy water had accumulated in puddles in some areas, and Raven found herself at an actual loss for words regarding Clarke’s helplessness. In the end, Raven ended up doing more than half of the mopping, but she doesn’t mind. She knows Clarke tried and it was absolutely worth watching her flail around on the floor like a toddler.

Finally the floors shine and the house’s inhabitants can walk all over without the annoying sound of their shoes sticking to the floorboards. Clarke sits in the middle of the living room with her legs stretched out on front of her, and thrusts her hands into the air in victory and tosses her head back.

“Yesssss! It’s over!” she yells, and Lincoln and Octavia laugh at her softly. Clarke looks like a toddler now more than ever, with her hair a mess and pant legs rolled up to her knees. A few stray soap bubbles cling to her wavy hair and stay there. “I never want to be Cinderella ever again.”

“Doesn’t Cinderella marry the prince at the end of the story?” Octavia asks, raising an eyebrow at Clarke. Clarke ponders the notion for a second, and gets embarrassed at how fast Lexa comes to mind. The girl crosses her mind and Clarke feels herself reach for her phone, except that she has no idea where she left the damn thing. Her legs object profusely as she forces them to perform their sole purpose, pushing herself up off the floor and running straight for the stairs.

“Where’s she off to?” she hears Lincoln say as she reaches the top of the stairs.

“Clarke’s always been more Prince Charming than Cinderella.” Clarke loves that her friends know her so well.

She leaps through the air and crashes onto her bed, savoring the comfort the warm blankets and fluffy pillows elicit. Her phone sits on her nightstand and she reaches for it and unlocks it. Just as the screen pops up, Clarke smells the faintest hint of smoke, and then the fire alarm goes off.

\-------

Lexa’s alarm clock forces her awake way too soon. She pulls the phone out from under her pillow and hits the snooze button before consciousness even reaches her, but she can’t ignore it when it yells at her nine minutes later. The brunette groans and rolls from her stomach onto her back, covering her face with her hands. The sunlight barely inches past the blinds covering her window. If the sun hasn’t even woken up yet, why should she have to?

“Because money,” Lexa answers her own question and reaches for her phone again. The screen blinds her with 7:12 a.m. written across the top. Her shift starts at 8 and if she doesn’t get out of bed soon, her boss will tear her a new one for being late – again.

“Okay,” she says out loud, mentally preparing herself. “We’re getting up. We’re getting up right…” she throws the blankets off her all at once like ripping off a Band-Aid. “…Now.”

She grudgingly removes herself from her bed and heads to the bathroom. After one glance in the mirror, she immediately regrets her decision to shower last night and should have just settled for going to work a greasy mess. Her hair tangles in knots and won’t fall nicely no matter how hard she tries to smooth out the unruly mane. She tries pulling it back into a ponytail, but even that fails miserably. After staring at herself in the mirror for a few precious minutes, Lexa surrenders. She pulls her hair over her left shoulder and does it in a quick braid, not even bothering to check it before returning to her bedroom.

She finds her black skinny jeans and white button-up shirt where she finds all her other clothes – on the floor. After removing her pajamas, she trades the clothes for her work uniform. The skinny jeans glide over her thighs and hug her hips in all the right places and Lexa knows it, but hey, she needs the tips. The white top is inconceivably wrinkled and probably should have gone in the washer three days ago, but Lexa doesn’t have much of a choice this morning. She laces her arms through the sleeves and then buttons it up the front. This is as good as it’s going to get for now.

Her wallet and keys sit on the bookcase by the door where she always leaves them and she grabs them as she attempts to pull on her jacket as she walks out the door. She’s got her phone in one hand, her wallet in the other, and her keys dangle from between her teeth as she struggles with the second sleeve. The phone in her hand lights up and rings out with a sound that means danger, and Lexa knows it’s her “last chance alarm” if she wants to make it to work on time. Without bothering with the second sleeve, Lexa dumps the uncooperative jacket on the floor and races out the front door with mere seconds to spare.

Luckily traffic is not an issue at 7:52 on a Sunday morning. Lexa has the gas pedal pushed down as far as she dares and the little blue car handles the curves with ease. No red lights, no stop signs, and no assholes to piss her off, and Lexa pulls into the parking lot at 7:57. She almost lets herself gloat because even she’s amazed that she made it here on time, but then her boss pokes his bald head into the nearest window. He glances down at the watch on his wrist and then shakes his head before gesturing for Lexa to come inside.

If anyone had asked Lexa what job she’d have after graduating high school, IHOP is damn close to the bottom of the list. But when one lives in a college town, pickings are slim. The college students pick up whatever odds and ends they can find, quickly depleting the town of any employment opportunities outside the realm of food service. Lexa had struggled even to get this job, and had only succeeded because Anya begged Nyko to put in a good word for her with the manager, which he finally did. The manager could never deny Nyko anything, because without Nyko, the kitchen would never function.

“Cutting it close, Miss Woods,” the bald man says as Lexa passes through the door that he holds open for her. “As always.”

Lexa feels her sharp tongue wrap around a witty remark, something that would make the man stare at her and then throw up his hands in frustration. She knows she’s gotten herself onto some thin ice though, and saves it for another time. “I’m sorry, Scott. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

The manager, Scott, furrows his brow and pulls back to look at her. Out of the six months he’s worked with her, he has never once heard her utter an apology. He almost looks pleased for a moment, and then he hears a bell ding from the kitchen and snaps out of it. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” he mutters, and then turns around to deal with his hungry customers.

Lexa exhales a sigh of relief and heads for the kitchen. She quickly tosses her keys and wallet into her locker against the back wall and then has to remind herself that she doesn’t have a coat to hang on the coat rack. Two minutes later, Lexa has adorned her blue apron and smiles sweetly at an elderly couple sitting in a corner booth. He orders pancakes and she orders a Belgian waffle, and then the workday officially begins.

The day passes in a blur, much like it usually does. Lexa balances five tables simultaneously for the first few hours of the morning shift. Then the church crowd floods in and Lexa finds herself helping the other servers with their tables as well. Despite her issues with punctuality, Lexa is one of the best servers this place has got. The customers love her and even the angriest of them calm down when Lexa has a word with them. Something about her confidence and charismatic personality makes them want to give her what she wants, and she happily takes it. The notepad for taking orders remains tucked into her apron for the duration of her morning and more than one customer comments on how organized she stays in the chaos.

By 2 in the afternoon, Lexa begins to notice the lack of sleep starting to affect her. A mother with her two kids sits at one of her tables, and she accidentally gives the woman her son’s meal and vice versa. The little boy’s eyes light up at the stack of pancakes in front of him. His mother chuckles before switching the plates and places his two measly pancakes in front of him. The woman obviously didn’t care and nobody causes a scene, but it’s so unlike Lexa to mess up even something that small.

“Not enough shut eye last night, huh?” A man calls from a nearby table, and then laughs when Lexa turns around to shoot him a playful glare. The old man’s belly shakes when he laughs and Lexa laughs too.

“Can’t you cut me a break this one time, Earl?” Lexa asks, placing her hand on her hip. Earl stops laughing and eyes his four or five friends sitting around the round table with him. Every single one of them is a regular and Lexa knows all their orders by heart, even down to how they take their coffee.

“What do you say, Gents? Do we let the lady slide this time?” Most of them just shake their heads at Earl and laugh, offering apologetic smiles to Lexa like they always do. They had all served in the military together, and each of them wears a United States Marine Corp emblem somewhere on their clothing. After knowing each other so well for so long, they know what to expect of each other. Earl is the most rambunctious of the group and has a knack for teasing the waitresses all in good fun. “I guess we’ll let you off with a warning this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

Lexa folds her hands in a mock thank you and laughs before heading back to work. Most of her tables have cleared out by now, except for the table of veterans. Lunch on a Sunday afternoon is much less fun than breakfast on a Sunday morning. She retrieves a spray bottle and dishtowel and begins to wipe down tables for the next round of customers.

Not two minutes later, she hears a larger group enter the restaurant and knows that they will get placed in her section. She’s the only waitress here today that can handle a party larger than three and not mess anything up. Lexa welcomes the business though, because it only helps to make the time pass more quickly. She returns the cleaning supplies to their proper place and then conjures the best happy waitress smile she can possibly manage.

The smile is wasted though, because she can’t keep it there as she watches the hostess seat the group of seven in the large wrap-around booth in the corner. One by one, the students file into the booth. The blonde keeps her back to Lexa, laughing over something Raven must have said. She finally turns around to take her seat at the edge of the bench, her gaze falling directly on Lexa. Clarke’s face mimics her own – jaw dropped, but still the slightest bit of excitement in her eyes – and then her lips curl up into a smile.

“Careful, Lexa,” Earl calls from across the room, his voice anything but quiet. “You’re drooling.”

\-------

The restaurant goes silent, or at least it seems to. Clarke’s eyes find Lexa’s and it takes her a few breaths to realize that her mind isn’t playing tricks on her and Lexa is indeed standing across the room from her. She takes the girl in all at once. The long braid hanging over her shoulder, which now has strands sticking out in every direction, catches her attention. It falls along the inside of her arm, the strands tracing the outlines of that tattoo that Clarke has only seen in pictures. Lexa must feel the tension too, because she sees the muscles beneath the tattoo flex, and god Clarke needs to stop.

“GUITAR GIRL!” Raven shouts, and the silence shatters. Clarke remembers the restaurant and the other customers and the other servers and becomes impossibly aware of her friends all staring at her with smirks etched into their faces. She smiles nervously, glancing at her friends individually and willing them not to make asses of themselves. She quickly decides that Lincoln is the only one she can count on, and even that seems uncertain when he winks at Octavia.

Something seems to click in Lexa. She jerks forward, suddenly remembering how to use her legs and closes the distance between her and the table. If nerves had gotten the best of her before, she has recovered all too gracefully. That happy waitress smile stretches across her face once more, although much less forcibly this time. She stops at the edge of the table, just next to Clarke, and Clarke has to consciously remind herself not to stare.

“Good to see you again, Overprotective Roommate,” she nods in Raven’s direction, and then looks down at Clarke. “It’s good to see you too, Clarke.”

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too, Lexa.” Their eyes meet again and Clarke can’t look away this time because Lexa stares right at her. She holds her gaze and doesn’t let go. Clarke doesn’t want her to.

“Wow, okay,” Raven’s eyebrows shoot up and she braces herself against the table. “Tension much? Anyway, Lexa, my actual name is Raven, though the overprotective thing still stands. Can the two of you stop-“

“ANYWAY,” Clarke jumps in, kicking Raven underneath the table, but she doesn’t even flinch. She just flashes that shit-eating grin at Clarke and Clarke knows she hasn’t seen anything yet. She glares warningly at the girl and Raven shrugs innocently.

“Clarke’s a little jumpy this morning,” Raven whispers not so quietly and Clarke audibly groans before placing her head in her hands. Lexa can’t help but laugh just a little. She’d known after five minutes with the two girls that the banter between them was infectious, and the fact still stands.

“Jumpy? Why jumpy?” Lexa eggs the girl on, adds fuel to the fire, and Raven arrives at the decision that she likes Lexa, for now. Clarke lifts her head from her hands and stares up at Lexa, lips parted in disbelief. Is it Gang Up On Clarke Day and nobody told her? Damn. But Lexa just stares back at her innocently, mischief evident in those emerald hues, her lips curled up at the tips.

“Not to interrupt… whatever… is happening here…” Everyone turns to face Murphy, who has some immediate regrets about not interrupting based on the expressions plastered on his friends’ faces. “I’m just hungry, Guys. Come on. Bellamy’s the one who set the kitchen on fire.” He raises his hands in defense. Lexa giggles.

“I’m not taking anybody’s order until you’ve all been properly introduced,” Lexa insists smugly, eyes falling on Clarke and finally connecting with hers. Murphy doesn’t seem to take the hint and leans across the table to offer Lexa his hand.

“Okay, hey the name’s John Murphy, but you can call me Mur-“ It’s Bellamy that cuts him off. He places a stern hand on Murphy’s shoulder and pulls his back against the seat, retracting his hand back across the table. Murphy stares at him with question circling in his eyes, but Bellamy just shakes his head.

“That’s not what she meant, Murphy.” Bellamy is holding back his laughter, but he stares at Clarke expectantly like everybody else at the table, Lexa included. Clarke folds.

“Well, you’ve already met Raven,” she gestures to the girl sitting next to her, and then goes around the circle one by one. “And then Murphy, Bellamy, Octavia, Lincoln, and then Finn.”

“There will be a quiz following lunch. Please prepare yourself accordingly,” Raven interjects, and Clarke doesn’t hesitate one bit as she lands her fist square against her shoulder. She shouldn’t admit it, but she feels so satisfied when Raven jumps back and the whites of her eyes flash at her.

“DAMN, Griffin! When did you get strong?!” Raven yells, and she’s actually a little hurt as she brings up her opposite hand to nurse the welt developing on her shoulder. Clarke beams and replicates Raven’s shit-eating grin with one of her own, and Lexa can’t take her eyes off the girl. She’s just staring at her idly, but Clarke doesn’t notice because she’s still rubbing Raven’s nose in it.

“So…” Murphy interjects hesitantly. “About that food…?”

The entire table laughs this time and Murphy earns himself an eye roll from Lexa. Lexa retrieves the notepad from her apron this time and decides to actually write down the orders. She’s not sure if it’s because of the number of people or if it’s because she can’t breathe with Clarke staring at her like that, but she has a feeling she won’t remember a single order by the time she gets back to the kitchen. After she takes down everyone’s orders, Clarke’s friends collect the menus and pass them over to Clarke, and she hands them off to Lexa. Their hands brush against each other, and they linger for just a second longer than they need to. It was just a second, but Lexa feels it all the way through her body. Her cheeks flush pink, a response that surprises even her. She takes the menus from Clarke and then heads for the kitchen, disappearing behind the swinging doors.

Across the room, Earl watches curiously and lifts his coffee mug to his lips. “Wow, Lexa’s got it _bad_.” The rest of the men nod in agreement.


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, Clarke and her friends can barely breathe due to their occupied stomachs. Nobody speaks around the table; they all just sort of stare at each other or play on their phones and fight to stay awake. Clarke hardly notices the silence though, because she keeps watching Lexa out of the corner of her eye. She’s wiping down the tables in the dining room for the seventh time since she and her friends arrived, only disappearing to place their order and then to retrieve it. Clarke doesn’t know it, but Lexa watches her too. She always keeps her body angled so that she can just barely see Clarke, but still see her enough.

“Just ask her out already,” Bellamy breaks the silence.

Clarke reluctantly pulls her eyes away from Lexa’s busy body and meets the expectant eyes of her friends once more. Her bottom lip slips between her teeth and she bites down. Obviously she wants to ask Lexa out, but no girl has ever made her this nervous before and it unsettles her.

“I’m going to. I’m just waiting for the right moment,” Clarke says. Raven rolls her eyes and lets a chuckle slip from her lips.

“Since when do you get scared?” she asks. It’s a side of Clarke she’s never seen before, and the vulnerable side of Clarke only brings out the more protective side of Raven.

“I am not scared!” Clarke refutes, her voice rising a little louder than she had intended. Suddenly she’s not sure if she’s convincing her friends or herself. Probably both.

Definitely both.

“Alright, calm down. No need to get so defensive,” Octavia interjects, smirking that all-knowing smirk and she pulls her eyes away from Lincoln just long enough to meet with Clarke’s. The girl soothes Clarke. Her confidence and attitude always motivates her because Octavia never gives a fuck. She puts everything on the line without second thoughts, without hesitation, and gives her all in everything she does. Octavia had been the first person to bring Clarke out of her shell and show her that she actually did have some game.

“Ready for the check?” Lexa appears out of nowhere, taking Clarke by surprise. She gasps almost inaudibly but visibly jumps in her seat. Lexa laughs as she sets the bill down on the table in front of no one in particular. “Still jumpy, I see.”

Lincoln is the one who laughs this time. It surprises people because the boy barely uttered a word since he and Octavia had joined the group for lunch. They look at him questioningly.

“Sorry, it’s just funny because you’ve literally been staring at her the entire time we’ve been here,” Lincoln begins to explain. Clarke groans. Lexa’s heart beats faster. “And then the second you look away, there she is.” Clarke can already feel her cheeks turning shades of red.

“You know, you and I could have been great friends,” Clarke says. “And you just ruined it.”

“We’ll still be great friends,” Lincoln laughs and it’s a simple statement, but it makes Clarke smile anyway, despite having thrown her under the bus seconds earlier. Clarke turns back to Lexa.

“Excuse my friends,” she says and then glances back at her them. “They’re all assholes.”

She looks at each of them individually and they all smile or smirk in one way or another. She knows that they can’t help themselves and loves them anyway. Lexa smiles and nods.

“Assholes are the best kind of people,” she says knowingly, and shifts her weight awkwardly. She wants to stay and talk with these people, talk with Clarke, but she can already see her boss eying her from the kitchen window. The group sitting at the table exchanges glances between one another, silently guessing whether Lexa stays or goes.

“What time do you get off work?” Raven asks.

“4:30,” Lexa replies. Scott starts to tap his finger on the counter. Lexa starts to bite her lip. “Sorry, my boss is going to kick my ass if I don’t seem productive.” The girl forces a half-smile and shrugs, taking one last look at Clarke before she disappears back into the kitchen to retrieve another table’s food.

Clarke lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I don’t get it,” Finn says quietly a few seconds later, and finally they realize that Finn hasn’t said a word since they arrived at the restaurant. Clarke directs her gaze across the table to look at him. His shoulders slump and he stares down at his plate, even though it’s empty.

“What don’t you get?” Octavia questions. Finn finally looks up and meets eyes with Clarke. She sees sadness swimming around in his brown eyes. He barely makes eye contact with her before sighing heavily and Clarke’s stomach clenches in her abdomen.

“It’s just that I’ve never seen you like this,” he says, looking down at his hands, and then back up at the blonde sitting across from him. “I’ve never seen you so jittery and nervous around someone. It’s so obvious and it’s written all over your face and I’ve never seen you give a fuck.”

It’s like someone reached down into her stomach and decided to shake it like a snowglobe. An awkward silence falls over the table. Everyone knows about the relationship that Finn and Clarke had had, even if it was only short-lived. It happened junior year and started at a party with way more alcohol involved than should have been humanly possible. Everyone saw Finn and Clarke get closer, but that night had been a turning point. However, Clarke saw Finn as a friend to hook up with and Finn saw Clarke as… well, _everything_.

Clarke tried to reciprocate those feelings. She even had herself fooled for a duration of their relationship and believed she had feelings for him too. But two months later, a tall girl with fiery red hair approached Clarke at a party and grinded against her hips and all Clarke could think about was how Finn would never be enough. She broke up with him the next day.

They agreed they would stay friends and things had mostly been okay since then. But now Finn stares back at her with eyes that show her just how much she hurt him and how deeply he cared for her. She sees the betrayal that he feels because now he realizes that it really wasn’t her - it was him. It crushes Clarke to see him so damaged and so disappointed, and she can’t stand to see it there anymore. She fixes her eyes on her hands in her lap and picks at her fingernails and nobody knows what to say.

“I’m going to go pay the bill,” she mutters without looking up. “Then I think we should get out of here.”

She doesn’t wait for a response before she slides out of the booth and grabs the bill. She can feel her friends’ eyes drilling into her back, but she just walks to the front counter and lays the bill down next to the register. Several minutes pass before Lexa pushes the door open and emerges from the kitchen.

Clarke watches it happen. Lexa looks directly at her table and stops when she doesn’t see Clarke sitting there. Her shoulders sag under the weight of disappointment, and then her eyes scan the room. Something changes in both the girls when she finds Clarke standing at the counter, something that puts them both at ease. She holds up a finger to Clarke, signaling for her to wait, and then she takes the tray of food over to a couple sitting on the other side of the room. After conversing with the couple briefly, she turns around and walks toward the counter.

“I’m so sorry. I would’ve come to get your bill at the table. I didn’t realize you’d been waiting,” she says as she takes the receipt from the counter and starts punching numbers into the cash register.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t waiting very long.” Lexa finishes punching in the numbers and lifts her gaze to look at Clarke. She sees the sullen look on the girl’s face and the way she won’t make eye contact with her. A rush of concern floods over her, but she doesn’t know if it’s her place to ask.

“Um,” she stumbles. “Uh, how do you want to split the check?”

Clarke waves her hand. “All on one.”

“Seriously? It’s $83.72” Lexa eyes her cautiously, but Clarke doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest as she passes a crisp hundred dollar bill across the counter. Lexa reaches for it, but she lets her fingers brush against Clarke’s for a moment. Clarke doesn’t pull away and Lexa lets the touch linger for a few seconds before resting her hand on top of Clarke’s and squeezing lightly.

“Clarke, is everything okay?” Her tone demands the girl’s attention and Clarke can’t not look up at her. Their eyes lock and convey the messages that neither one wants to talk about. Clarke’s blue eyes drown in regret and self-loathing, reflecting how poorly she feels about how she treated Finn. It causes Lexa’s emerald eyes to glow with concern.

The two girls stand there in that moment for what seems like too much time and not enough at the same time. Clarke revels in that overwhelming look of concern and lets the warmth of it seep over her, and Lexa is more than happy to give it to her.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Clarke finally admits, turning her hand over to meet Lexa’s. She squeezes it lightly to reassure the girl, even though Lexa doesn’t seem convinced in the slightest. She offers her a secondary smile to reinforce the message, and Lexa forces herself to smile in return before retracting her hand and the money.

Clarke immediately feels like her hand has gone missing because it doesn’t feel right anymore without Lexa’s in it. She tucks it away into the pocket of her jacket and watches Lexa count out her change. She feels that same sense of comfort wash over her as her fingers count out the dollar bills and coins, the same way she watched them play along the neck of her guitar.

“16.28,” Lexa says as she hands the money over to Clarke, but Clarke shakes her head in refusal.

“Keep it,” she explains. Lexa stares back at her, confused, and Clarke laughs. “It’s a tip. You know, for being such a good waitress, and also for dealing with my friends.”

Lexa smiles, but continues to offer the money back to her. “I don’t want your money, Clarke.”

“Sure you do,” Clarke responds with a smirk. Lexa raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Do I? Why’s that?” Lexa questions. Clarke pushes away her regrets and disappointment. She does her best not to let her nerves cause her voice to crack and she can already feel the sweat building on her hands. A smirk tugs at her lips and Clarke hopes to god that it looks sexy, or at least mildly attractive.

“You can use it to take me on a date later tonight.” Clarke has to force herself to maintain eye contact but her knotted stomach begs her to look away from those green eyes. They set free a multitude of butterflies that demand freedom from inside her abdomen. Their fluttering wings bounce against her ribs and tickle her lungs and it’s such a satisfying feeling, liberating even, but it also terrifies her and she swallows hard to keep the butterflies inside.

Lexa’s hand freezes in mid air and her face makes no expression for a moment, until she finally curls the money into her palm and pockets it. “Cheap date,” she responds, her voice dripping with gratification.

“Fucking finally,” Raven calls from behind Clarke, bursting the bubble surrounding the girls for the second time. Clarke’s face sinks into annoyance and she turns around to glare at Raven, but Lexa just smiles wider, the corners of her lips reaching for her eyes.

“Don’t even. We’ve been waiting on your ass for fifteen minutes. You can make heart eyes at Lexa tonight during your _date_ ,” Raven replies, accentuating the T at the end of the word date. The smug look on her face has Clarke shaking her head, but she can’t help but smile because the fact is sinking in. Clarke is going on a date with Lexa.

Clarke is going on a date.

With Lexa.

Tonight.

Fuck.

“Um,” Clarke begins, searching for a pen and piece of paper. She pulls the receipt from Lexa’s hand and finds a pen on the counter, then scribbles her number across the back with nervous hands. “Text me?”

Lexa takes the receipt and nods. She still can’t wipe the smile off her face. Clarke nods in agreement and pauses for a second, then turns around and walks past Raven out the door. Lexa laughs, shaking her head as her heart fills with endearment. She looks down at the number in her hand and she feels her heart beat faster for the umpteenth time today, until she hears Raven’s laugh.

“Have fun tonight, Guitar Girl,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I expect her back by midnight.”

 

\------

 

“Oh my god. Okay, seriously, you need to calm down,” Octavia says as she enters the war zone that used to be Clarke’s room. Clothes litter the floor like wounded soldiers. They’d all tried, but obviously failed, to complete the mission: dress Clarke appropriately for her first date with Lexa.

Of course Clarke had gone on tons of dates before now, but none that mattered, none that she cared about how they went. Clarke would go on dates and enjoy the free food or conversation or movie or concert. If things went well, maybe she’d go out again, and if they didn’t, well at least she still got something out of it. It was shallow and superficial, but nobody had ever made Clarke interested enough to care.

Tonight, Clarke cares. She wants everything to go perfectly, even down to the stupid outfit.

“I don’t have enough clothes,” Clarke says, standing in front of the full-length mirror in the corner of her bedroom. She turns around and observes herself at all angles, decides that the shirt doesn’t fit her right, and then pulls it over her head. She tosses the garment carelessly to the floor before plunging back into her closet.

“You have more clothes than Raven and I combined,” Octavia retorts, crossing the room to Clarke’s bed and plopping down on the edge. “And you look hot in every single outfit you have. Stop panicking.”

Clarke emerges from her closet with three more shirts, one of which is covered and sequins and another Octavia knows doesn’t cover her torso. Octavia quickly removes herself from the bed and lunges across the room for the shirts, tearing them from Clarke’s hands.

“No, no, no,” she says, taking the shirts back into the closet. “Absolutely not. No.”

Clarke exhales heavily in frustration, too annoyed with herself to argue. She stands shirtless in the middle of her room while she listens to Octavia dig around in her closet. She hears a few muttered profanities and a few loud thumps that Clarke can only assume are due to Octavia throwing shoes around. A few minutes later, Octavia enters the room with an outfit in hand.

She lays out a fitted black t-shirt with a plunging v-neck and an olive green jacket that fits Clarke perfectly.

“Wear a decent pair of boots and you’ll be fine. It’s a Sunday night, not like you guys are going to the club or anything.” Octavia sits down on the bed again, looking up at Clarke. “But seriously, you’ve got to calm the fuck down.”

Clarke takes a deep breath. “You’re right,” she replies. “It’s just a date. I’ve done this a hundred times.”

“But not with someone you actually liked,” Octavia adds. Clarke pulls the t-shirt over her head and fixes her hair in the process.

“I thought you were trying to help me calm down,” she claims.

“Calm down, yes, but this isn’t just a date like the others you’ve been on. If it were, you wouldn’t be such a wreck,” Octavia explains, and Clarke moves to sit on the bed next to her. She stares down at her knees and tries to focus, tries to put everything into perspective. She tries to calm her nerves and stop making such a big deal of the event, but those damn butterflies. They won’t settle.

“I don’t know why this is so different,” Clarke finally says, and Octavia smiles at her friend. She places a hand on her knee and Clarke looks up at her.

“It’s a good thing, Clarke,” Octavia smiles, something sparkling in her eyes. “Don’t be afraid of it.”

It suddenly dawns on Clarke that she and Octavia are in the same boat, discovering something new and exciting. Clarke thinks about how comfortable Octavia had been around Lincoln and how natural it all seemed between them. Nobody had teased Octavia or embarrassed her though. Although, even if they had tried, Clarke isn’t sure that would have fazed her.

“How come you’re not like this with Lincoln?” Clarke asks, and Octavia simply shrugs her shoulders.

“It’s not the same, and you and I aren’t the same,” Octavia responds.

“You haven’t been nervous at all though,” Clarke says, and Octavia nearly snorts as she chokes out a laugh.

“I haven’t stopped being nervous since I met him last night. We just deal with it differently,” she says. “It’s not my fault your face turns red the second Lexa walks into the room,” Octavia teases, nudging Clarke’s shoulder to get a laugh out of her. Clarke chuckles too and the laughter soothes her.

“I can do this,” she finally says, and Octavia puts an arm around her shoulders.

“You look hot, Griffin,” Octavia says, looking her friend up and down. “I’d totally fuck you,” she adds with a raise of her eyebrows. Clarke laughs and observes herself in the mirror, and she has to admit, Octavia chose well.

As if on cue, Clarke’s phone vibrates on her nightstand. Her eyes meet with Octavia’s and the nerves rise up in her stomach again, but Octavia just draws in an exaggerated breath and then breathes it out slowly, reminding Clarke of the importance of oxygen. Clarke smiles, does the same, and she realizes she can indeed breathe.

“Good,” Octavia says. “Now go get your girl.”

 

\------

 

Half an hour later, Kurt pulls up along the curb outside Clarke’s house. Lexa double checks and triple checks the address to make sure it’s the right one, and then pulls out her phone to tell Clarke she’s outside. She types out the message and then her thumb hovers over the send button for a second, but she doesn’t click it. She looks up at the front door and then back down to her phone, then stares straight ahead. A few moments pass and then she shakes her head, tossing her phone into the cup holder and then removing her seatbelt.

Lexa walks along the sidewalk and then up the front steps. She can feel electricity in her veins and she shakes the nerves out once before tapping her knuckles on the door three times.

“I told you she’d come to the door!” Lexa hears Octavia say from the other side of the door. Lexa can imagine the three of them standing on the other side of the door with their ears pressed against it. The thought causes her lips to curl up into a smile and she feels her face turn warm before the door opens.

Clarke appears in the doorway and Lexa feels that warmth spread through the rest of her body.

Her blonde hair falls in its natural waves, except for a small braid in the front that she has pinned back. Lexa can’t stop her eyes from taking her in from head to toe and then back up again. She can feel her gaze tracing every inch of the girl’s body, only stopping when she reaches her eyes.

“Hello to you too,” Clarke says through a chuckle. Confidence bubbles up inside of her. She’d forgotten what it felt like to elicit that kind of response from a person, and seeing it in Lexa only makes it that much more delicious.

“Oh, right,” Lexa says, fumbling for words. “Sorry. I mean- Hi. Hi, Clarke.”

“Smooth,” Raven says, appearing behind Clarke.

“Aw, look,” Clarke says, reaching a hand for Lexa’s face. She cups her cheek in her palm and brushes a thumb across the surface. Lexa feels heat rise underneath her touch. “Lexa can turn red too,” Clarke smirks. Lexa’s face glows red in full force and she curses herself for it, and then curses Clarke. Raven and Octavia laugh. Lexa glares back at her playfully, but a smile splits her face. The laughter that pours from Clarke’s lips rings in her ears and she hopes it never stops.

“Okay, you two get out of here,” Octavia says, literally pushing Clarke out the door until she collides into Lexa. She feels Lexa’s arms catch her hips and their stomachs push against each other. Clarke feels her confidence waiver because at this proximity, Clarke can smell Lexa, and _god_ it’s intoxicating. Her blue eyes look up to meet green and Lexa’s got the same look of surprise and excitement in her eyes. Clarke removes herself from Lexa’s arms quickly before she does something stupid, but plays it off smoothly.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t wait up!” Clarke calls behind her as she walks toward Lexa’s car. Lexa waves a hasty goodbye and then follows Clarke down the sidewalk where Kurt waits expectantly for the girls.

“I mean it, Guitar Girl! Midnight!” She hears Raven call after her, and she’s not sure if she’s joking or not.

Both. She decides on both.

 

\------

 

“Where are we going?” The little blue car pulls away from the curb and even though it’s only been a total of two minutes, Clarke can’t contain her curiosity. Lexa smirks as she places a hand on the steering wheel and one on the gearshift.

“I thought I was taking you on a date,” Lexa says, and then glances over at Clarke. The light from the radio washes her face in blue and her eyes look like ice. “Although, there weren’t many options available. I’ve only got a budget of $16.28 to work with.”

Clarke looks over to meet Lexa’s gaze, and then there’s that tension again. It fills up the small car faster than Clarke ever knew it could. Music plays from the speakers, but it only reminds her of meeting Lexa the night before. She feels her judgment become cloudy and her head starts to spin. She retracts her gaze from Lexa’s.

“Eyes on the road, Guitar Girl,” Clarke says through curving lips.

“Kurt knows where he’s going,” Lexa replies, but puts her eyes back on the road anyway. She doesn’t tell Clarke that she could drive around this town with her eyes closed and would still drive better than half the town’s population.

“Kurt?” Clarke questions, confused. Lexa smiles and then reaches up to pat the dashboard of her car.

“Yeah, Kurt,” Lexa has the cheesiest grin plastered on her face and Clarke can’t help but laugh along. “He’s my car.”

“Why Kurt?” Clarke asks. Lexa shrugs, that same grin still decorating her face and Clarke feels a churning in the pit of her stomach.

“It suits him,” she explains. “He has lots of personality.”

Clarke laughs at the girl’s antics. “Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Kurt.”

“He’s still deciding if he approves of you or not,” Lexa says, pressing the brake at a stop sign. She doesn’t bother to come to a complete stop and presses the gas when she sees no evidence of headlights coming from either direction.

“I’ll win him over,” Clarke says confidently and then turns to look out the window. She sees nothing but cornfields and trees stretching out around the little blue car. No streetlights on the side of the road and no cars driving anywhere near them. No wonder Lexa didn’t bother to stop at the stop sign. “Um, where exactly are you taking me?”

Lexa smirks deviously. “Don’t worry, you’ll see.”

 

\------

 

Ten minutes later, Lexa drives through a small town just outside of Arkadia. Clarke didn’t even know it existed; she had just assumed that everything outside the college town was cornfields and farms. But the homes here stand in much better condition than those around the campus and Clarke points out the houses she likes and the ones she doesn’t.

Lexa makes two left turns and then a right before pulling into an empty parking lot. Clarke feels a wave of relief wash over here. She never thought she’d be so happy to see streetlights, and for a second, she had worried that Lexa was going to dump her in a cornfield and leave her there with the children of the corn.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing now?” Clarke questions.

“Nope,” Lexa says, popping the P sound between her lips. She unbuckles the seatbelt and gets out of the car. Clarke has no choice but to follow.

They walk across the parking lot and find a little park. It’s mostly abandoned, considering it’s nearly 7pm on a Sunday night in the middle of March. Clarke pulls the green jacket around her tighter, hoping that this isn’t where they’re going to spend their evening. Octavia had chosen her outfit based on aesthetic, not insulation capability. What is it with this girl and causing Clarke to freeze her ass off?

Lexa leads Clarke along a trail through the park. The blonde looks around the park a bit uneasily, taking in her surroundings and trying to follow Lexa’s plan for the evening. Lexa merely smirks and lets the silence sit between them, inching Clarke’s curiosity closer and closer to the edge. Both of the girls have their hands buried inside their pockets, but their elbows still brush together as they walk. Lexa isn’t sure if it’s on purpose or not, but she doesn’t pull away and neither does Clarke, and that’s enough for now.

The trail leads the girls through a short patch of trees covered in darkness. Clarke instinctively moves closer to Lexa and Lexa has never been so grateful for the lack of lighting in the park. A few minutes later, the trees open up and light floods the area. Clarke’s brows furrow, trying to figure out what she’s looking at.

They approach an arena, enclosed by white walls that come up past Clarke’s waist. A stack of bleachers sits on either side of the oval shaped circle. Curiosity finally gets the best of her and she runs forward, not stopping until she reaches the edge of the wall. Lexa joins her a few seconds later, and she starts to feel nervous. She never thought of a Plan B in case Clarke doesn’t like this idea, but it’s too late to turn back now.

Before the girls stretches a large outdoor ice rink. The ice is smooth and shiny and big, gleaming lights shine down on the rink like a football stadium. Lexa looks over to find Clarke’s eyes tracing over the ice.

“Ever ice skated before?” Lexa questions. Clarke shakes her head. She’d never been anywhere close to an ice rink, unless you counted the dangerous patches of ice she slipped on every morning on her way to class. Those experiences usually ended up with her falling flat on her ass, and she didn’t have much hope that this would be much better. Lexa chuckles and touches her elbow.

“Don’t worry,” she says reassuringly. “I won’t let you fall. Promise.”


	5. Chapter 5

Lexa leads Clarke over to the bleachers where several pairs of skates rest on the bottom bench, all in different sizes. Clarke looks over at Lexa and she shrugs in response.

“I figured we’d wear the same size, but I just wanted you to have options,” she says. Her fingers close around a pair of eights and she sits down on the bench to begin removing her shoes. Clarke grabs two skates of the same size and sits down beside Lexa and starts unlacing her boots.

“How did you pull this off?” Clarke asks, looking up at her as she struggles with the shoelaces. Lexa smirks. Her eyes meet Clarke’s and she can already see the smugness swelling there.

“I know a guy,” she says simply, and slips on one skate and then the other. She ties the laces in a bow with ease and pulls the legs of her pants down over the top of the skates. Clarke finally has both of her boots off and has managed to get her feet into both skates, but the laces seem way too long to tie in a simple bow. After a first attempt, she’s left with a bow with two long loops that drag on the ground. An expression of frustration and disappointment falls over her face and Lexa laughs to herself. She kneels down in front of Clarke and offers to help, but Clarke waves her nimble fingers away.

Ten minutes later, Clarke finally succeeds at tying her skates by wrapping the laces around her ankles twice and then tying them into a respectable bow. She can feel the judgment in Lexa’s eyes before she looks up, but Lexa only smiles. The brunette stands and offer’s Clarke a hand, helping her off the bleachers. Clarke’s ankles wobble under her weight as they try to balance on the blades beneath her feet. She grabs tightly onto Lexa’s hand and her other hand latches onto her arm and suddenly they’re face to face.

“I’m going to die,” Clarke says, laughing nervously. Lexa laughs with her and squeezes her hand.

“I told you,” she says reassuringly, making point to look Clarke in the eyes. “I won’t let you fall.”

Clarke nods even though she highly doubts that this girl could ever stop Clarke from hitting the ground once gravity has a hold of her. It’s simple physics, but Clarke stops thinking about physics and the cold and almost everything when Lexa laces their fingers together and leads her to the edge of the rink. They walk slowly because Clarke walks like a baby horse on legs she doesn’t know how to use yet. When she starts to feel her balance go one way or another, she grabs Lexa’s arm with her free hand and Lexa steadies her.

When they reach the edge of the rink, Clarke pauses to rest and Lexa lets her lean against her. She can feel the length of Clarke’s body against her own and she swallows thickly, trying to push the thought of it out of her mind.

“Are you some kind of figure skater?” Clarke questions, and Lexa laughs so much harder than she intends to.

“Definitely not,” she responds. “Former hockey player.”

Clarke brushes her thumb against the back of Lexa’s without thinking about it, and she feels her cheeks turn the slightest shade of red. “I don’t know anything about hockey,” she says, trying to focus on the conversation. It doesn’t work though, because Lexa couldn’t help but notice. How could she not? She can barely take her eyes away from the blonde and she has to resist the urge to touch the pink hues rising in her cheeks.

“I’ll teach you sometime,” she says, deciding not to tease the girl. “But we have to get you on the ice first. Are you ready?”

Clarke is anything but ready, but she’s never backed down from a challenge, and truthfully, she’s never not been good at anything. Granted, she wasn’t the best at everything, but that’s beside the point. Clarke decides she will be a kick ass ice skater and before she knows it, she’ll be skating circles around Lexa. So Clarke meets Lexa’s eyes and nods, the warmth of Lexa’s eyes reassuring her.

Lexa unlaces her fingers from Clarke’s and Clarke feels her smile falter for a second until she feels the girls hands again around her hips. Fuck it, Clarke will love ice skating if it means she gets Lexa’s hands on her hips the whole time. She will fall in love with ice skating and will ice skate every day of her life if that’s what it takes to get Lexa’s hands on her body.

“Clarke, you’ve got to move your feet,” Lexa whispers in her ear, her mouth suddenly so close to her ear that she can feel her breath in her hair. Clarke feels a whole new rush of butterflies release inside her stomach and she snaps out of the trance that Lexa’s hands have put her in. She bites her bottom lip and places one blade on the ice and then the other. Lexa’s hands never move, never falter. She follows closely behind Clarke, her front almost touching Clarke’s back, and Clarke can hear Octavia’s voice reminding her to breathe.

Clarke doesn’t move her feet. She lets Lexa guide them across the ice and a smile tugs at the corners of her lips. The threat of falling seems silly when Lexa’s got her hands on her and, well, actually everything seems silly when Lexa’s got her hands on her.

“See? It’s not so bad,” Lexa says quietly, close behind Clarke’s ear. She can feel the smugness in the girl’s voice and she doesn’t mind it because this tops every other first date Clarke has been on by far.

“Not bad at all,” Clarke responds, risking a glance behind her to see the smile on Lexa’s face. However, the turn of her head causes a turn of her hips and then a turn in her ankles, which ultimately causes a turn of the blades of her skates. She feels her feet continue in one direction while her body gets pulled in another, and she yelps helplessly. Her eyes clamp shut, bracing for the impact. She waits for her ass to hit the ground the way it always does when she slips on the ice, and knows she’ll be nursing a bruised tailbone for a few days.

But gravity never does get to have its way with her. Lexa’s grip tightens around her waist, and Clarke opens her eyes in surprise at the girl’s strength. She pulls Clarke closer to her, using her body to balance Clarke’s until her feet bring themselves beneath her body once again. Once Clarke stabilizes on her own feet, Lexa guides them to the edge of the rink and lets Clarke grab onto the railing. She’s breathing heavier than she realized, but she laughs anyway. Lexa looks at her with worried eyes for a moment, but laughs when she laughs.

“Nice save,” Clarke mutters breathlessly.

“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall,” Lexa reminds her. Blue eyes meet green for what seems like the hundredth time, but Clarke still can’t get over how good it feels to look at Lexa. The shades of green calm the butterflies wreaking havoc in her abdomen and she feels grounded – she feels safe. Lexa reaches forward and pushes a strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear, brushing her thumb across Clarke’s cheek in the process. Clarke can feel every single atom vibrate where Lexa traces her cheekbone.

“Who can’t stop blushing now?” Lexa smirks playfully, withdrawing her hand reluctantly. Clarke reaches back to shove the girl’s shoulder, but the quick movement throws her body off balance and she has to use the hand instead to steady herself along the rail. Lexa laughs out loud, and Clarke thinks it’s the first real, genuine laugh she’s heard from the girl.

“I hate you,” Clarke mumbles, but Lexa just rolls her eyes.

“No, you don’t,” she responds, placing her hands on Clarke’s hips once again, bringing herself dangerously close. Clarke feels her breath hitch in her throat when she hears Lexa breathing next to her ear. “Ready to go again?”

Clarke nods confidently, although she’s not sure if it’s because she’s getting the hang of ice skates or if Lexa’s hands on her waist just have that effect on her. Lexa smiles into Clarke’s hair. When she breathes in, all she can smell is Clarke and the scent has her stomach doing backflips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Lexa knows this is a familiar feeling, but she ignores the thought adamantly.

Lexa pushes Clarke around the arena, gliding over the ice gracefully and effortlessly. The ice has always felt like home to her than any four walls she’d ever inhabited. After a particularly difficult day, Lexa would strap on her skates and hit the ice for hours, leaving her frustrations all over the ice. Lexa and Clarke draw figure eights across the ice. She turns Clarke in circles until she giggles and places her hands over Lexa’s and squeezes.

“Let’s try something else,” Lexa says and leads them back to the railing. She lets Clarke balance herself on the railing and then says, “Give me your hands.”

Clarke looks at her hesitantly. “Those are the only things keeping me on my feet right now.”

“Trust me,” Lexa encourages, offering both her hands to the girl. Clarke’s lip slips between her teeth once again, and it doesn’t go unnoticed. “Please?” Lexa asks, and Clarke’s heart melts at Lexa’s wide green eyes and the puppy dog look on her face. She sighs hesitantly, but ultimately places in one hand in Lexa’s and then the other. The smile that spreads across Lexa’s face makes it worth it, even though Clarke feels certain that this can’t end well.

Lexa starts to backpedal against the ice, propelling her body backward and pulling Clarke along with her. They skate face to face, Lexa doing all the work, and Clarke feels her head spin. Adrenaline pumps through her body with the new sensation, because she’s not looking down at her feet anymore as the blades cut through the ice. She stares at Lexa instead, and the combination of Lexa’s smiling face and the wind combing its fingers through her hair lights her heart on fire.

“I’m going to let go,” Lexa says, but she doesn’t let go until she gets Clarke’s approval. Blue eyes grow wide for a moment and then Lexa squeezes her hands. “I won’t leave you,” she promises and Clarke nods reluctantly. Lexa slowly removes her hands from Clarke’s, even though Clarke has a death grip on the girl’s fingers. When Lexa frees herself from the girl, Clarke just continues forward, never moving her feet. She glides across the ice, steadily losing momentum. Lexa follows close by, winding and weaving her feet in intricate patterns that Clarke can’t let herself look at because if she loses focus, she’ll fall.

When Clarke practically stops in the middle of the ice, Lexa grabs her waist again and pushes them forward with speed. Clarke squeals and laughs, covering her face with her hands. The girls play on the ice like this as the night continues to fall around them. Lexa shows off every opportunity she gets and Clarke awes at the gracefulness of the girl. She makes it seem so natural and effortless, and Clarke could watch her for hours. It’s like seeing her play guitar again for the first time, and Clarke knows that she’ll never skate circles around Lexa.

A few laps later, Lexa guides the blonde back over to the railing. Clarke happily grabs onto the edge and lets her arms take on the brunt of her weight, her ankles grateful for the relief. Lexa places a hand on Clarke’s hip.

“We should get you warmed up.”

Clarke feels a sensation in the pit of her stomach and she bites down on her lip. She bites down on her lip until the feeling dissipates, almost drawing blood in the process. She knows where her mind went isn’t what Lexa meant. She knows she needs to get her mind out of the gutter.

They’d only been skating for half an hour, but Clarke can already feel her leg muscles getting sore. She’d used muscles she didn’t even know she had, and the cold weather didn’t help the soreness at all. She nods in agreement and allows Lexa to guide her away from the railing and across the middle of the rink until they reach the opening in the wall. Clarke steps off the ice carefully. Lexa doesn’t remove her hands from the girl’s waist until Clarke has both her feet safely off the ice and Clarke just wishes she’d put them back.

Once Clarke seats herself back on the bleachers, she doesn’t have time to object before Lexa starts untying her skates for her. She sits down in front of Clarke and unties one skate and then the other, then pulls them both off of Clarke’s feet simultaneously. Her legs and feet feel like concrete and jello at the same time, heavy and unsteady.

The next thing she feels is relief and comfort shooting from her feet up the lengths of her legs. She moans before she can stop herself, before she even realizes what Lexa is doing, and Lexa smirks so heavily that Clarke can feel her eyes grow dark with pleasure. Lexa kneads her fingers into the soles of Clarke’s sore feet and she can feel the pockets of tension and tightness dissipate and relax under Lexa’s touch.

“The girls on my team used to beg me for foot massages after practice,” Lexa explains. She withdraws a hand from Clarke’s foot and wiggles it at her. “Magic fingers.”

Clarke wants to say something witty and funny. She wants to hear Lexa laugh again, but as soon as Lexa digs her fingers back into the tendons and muscles in her feet, Clarke’s mind goes blank with pleasure. She tries not to think about all the other things Lexa could do with those fingers, but she fails miserably.

“Magic fingers is definitely an accurate description,” Clarke says. Lexa retracts her hands from Clarke’s right foot and picks up her left, continuing with the same process.

“You’re still going to be sore tomorrow,” she tells Clarke, who now has her eyes shut. Lexa doesn’t think the smirk will ever fall from her face. “Just a fair warning.”

Clarke only hums in response and Lexa chuckles. She continues with the massage for another five minutes before she slips Clarke’s boots back on her feet and ties them for her. Clarke’s eyes finally flutter open to see Lexa undoing her own skates and pulling them off, trading them for her boots. After tying the boots, Lexa stands and looks down at Clarke, offering her hand.

“Ready to go?” she asks. Clarke shakes her head, but takes the girl’s hand and pulls her down beside her. Lexa looks surprised but obliges.

“Tell me something,” Clarke says.

“Okay, like what?” Lexa asks

“Anything,” Clarke responds. “I hardly know anything about you.”

“Um,” Lexa drags out the syllable, her eyes rolling up to the sky as she tries to think of something. “My guitar’s name is Phoebe?”

Clarke stares at the girl, wondering if she’s even real, and then she laughs. “What is it with you and naming inanimate objects?”

“Hey, they have lots of–!”

“Personality,” Clarke finishes the sentence for her. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She adds an eye roll for good measure. Lexa glares at her playfully.

“Your turn,” Lexa persists. “Tell me something.”

“I was the prom queen my senior year of high school,” Clarke offers, and Lexa almost snorts when she laughs so hard.

“Of course you were,” she adds. “That doesn’t even surprise me.”

“Yeah, well I think everyone had second thoughts when they found out I was into girls,” Clarke continues, and Lexa goes quiet, watching Clarke intently. The blonde looks down at her fingernails and picks at them like she always does when she’s nervous. Lexa reaches over and pulls one into her lap, closing it in both her hands. “It’s not a big deal. I went to a super conservative high school. It bothered me then, obviously, but I’m over it now.”

Still, Lexa squeezes the girl’s hand reassuringly just to let her know she’s there. Clarke smiles a half-smile and Lexa strokes the back of her hand with her thumb.

“I came out my freshman year of high school,” Lexa says next. “Nobody really knew what to think about it. There were other gay girls in my high school, but I wasn’t like them. I took people by surprise, I guess, but everyone was pretty open-minded. I was fortunate that way.”

“When did you know?” Clarke asks.

“I think I always knew,” Lexa responds, tracing each of Clarke’s fingers individually. Clarke feels the hair on her arms stand on end. “I had my first crush on a girl when I was in fifth grade, and then in sixth grade I got in a fight with some girl. She called me a lesbian just because she thought it was offensive, not because she thought I actually was gay. That really freaked me out though, because it had never been said out loud, so I punched her.”

“Way to use your words,” Clarke giggles. Lexa’s heart swells at the sound.

“There’s a reason I enjoyed hockey more than other sports,” she replies, tapping the inside of Clarke’s palm with her index finger. “I handle my feelings much better with physicality than with words.”

Clarke looks up to meet Lexa’s gaze and finds dark green eyes staring back at her. The nerves in her stomach begin to rise up her throat, but Clarke swallows them back down. The static in the air ignites and Clarke can feel every ounce of tension hanging in the air between the girls. Lexa eyes dart to Clarke’s lips and then back up to her eyes quickly, like she didn’t mean to do it. Clarke can feel her heart pounding in every part of her body, the blood making her skin hot, until she feels that confidence bubble up once again. Her fingers lace into Lexa’s and pull her closer, and Lexa doesn’t need anymore encouraging than that. Lexa is so close that Clarke can feel her breath against her lips. She can feel her nose push up against her. Her lips are so close and then–

A loud boom echoes across the park and even from behind closed eyes, Clarke feels the darkness deepen all around her. The lights go off all around her, causing her and Lexa alike to shudder. The sigh that Lexa releases teases Clarke’s lips as Lexa pulls away.

“The lights turn off at nine,” she explains. Clarke opens her eyes reluctantly, cursing silently to herself. She can barely see Lexa sitting next to her. Hell, she can barely see her hand in front of her own face when she waves it in front of her. Clarke doesn’t think she’s ever seen darkness like this.

“Oh, wow,” Clarke mumbles, her gaze rising to the sky. Millions of stars decorate the black canvas that stretches above them, twinkling back at the girls like innocent bystanders. She’d never seen the sky look like this ever in her life. She always thought people were being dramatic when they talked about how great it was to see the sky away from the city, away from all the lights that drown out the stars. God, was she wrong. “I’ve never seen the sky like this.”

“What, really?” Lexa asks, and Clarke shakes her head even though she knows Lexa probably couldn’t see it.

“I grew up in the suburbs, but still close enough to the city. It never gets this dark there.” She feels Lexa’s hand in her again.

“This is my favorite part about this damn town,” Lexa says, tipping her head back to gaze at the stars more fully. A sliver of moon hangs lazily overhead, like the Cheshire cat who refuses to appear except for his menacing smile. Clarke doesn’t have words to respond. She can’t peal her eyes away from the immensity of the sky and all the wonders it holds. It makes her feel small, but in the best way possible. All of Clarke’s problems, all of her worries, all of her concerns just seem so small when she’s got the whole galaxy staring back at her expectantly.

She takes her hand from Lexa’s lap and pulls Lexa’s hand along with it. Lexa resists at first habitually, but gives up the control. Clarke places her hand behind her neck and then traces her arm back to her shoulder, her hand reaching down her back and pulling her closer to her. She can feel Lexa’s breath on her lips again and she pushes her nose against Lexa’s, and then Lexa closes the space between them.

The kiss is quiet and innocent, like a Sunday morning with nothing to do except be lazy. Lexa’s lips close on Clarke’s bottom and Clarke exhales through her nose, her hand tugging the girl closer to her. Lexa plays with the hair at the base of Clarke’s neck, giving her goosebumps all over her body, and Clarke shudders. She feels Lexa’s lips curl into a smile against hers before she pulls away.

“Are you cold?” Lexa asks, and Clarke shakes her head before closing the distance between them again. The kiss grows hungrier this time, and just the slightest bit more desperate. Both girls become more sure of themselves and their lips melt against each other like they’ve done it a million times. Clarke pulls Lexa’s bottom lip between her teeth playfully and she can feel Lexa smile into it before she pulls away again. She brings her hand from behind Clarke’s neck and rests it against the curve of her cheek.

“Come on,” she says, standing up and then tugging at Clarke’s hand to follow. “I want to show you something.”

\------

Walking back to Lexa’s car in the dark had not been the easiest task, although it became substantially easier when the girls remembered their cell phones had flashlights. Still, neither one of them had realized how cold they had gotten over the last couple hours. Their fingers and toes hurt and the wind began to sting as it blew against their faces.

Lexa had never been so happy to see Kurt in her life.

Neither girl can wipe the smile off her face as Lexa drives them back into town. Lexa reaches across the center console and rests her hand lazily on Clarke’s thigh. It takes everything Clarke has in her not to stare down at her leg to make sure it’s really there. Then again, her lips still tingle with the sensation of Lexa’s lip against hers. There’s no denying anything now.

Clarke feels her phone vibrate inside the pocket of her jeans, but she decides to ignore it. It’s a well-known fact that cell phones ruin dates, and Clarke isn’t planning on ruining anything tonight. However, five minutes after, the phone vibrates again and Clarke frowns. She pulls the phone out of her pocket and sees two text messages from Raven.

“You should definitely check that,” Lexa says, glancing down at the phone in Clarke’s hand.

“Are you sure?” Clarke questions, and Lexa nods without hesitation.

“Remember what happened the last time you were with me and ignored her texts?” Clarke shakes her head at the memory. As if she could ever forget. “I don’t think we need her dragging you back home just yet,” she finishes with a squeeze to Clarke’s leg and Clarke’s heart bounds with satisfaction.

She swipes her thumb across the screen and Raven’s texts pop up.

> _Raven: How’s it going?_   
>  _Raven: Did you kiss her yet? ;)_

Clarke rolls her eyes and smiles, returning the cell phone to her pocket.

“Should we be expecting a visit from Raven again?” Lexa asks.

“Definitely not,” Clarke responds. “Where are you taking me this time?”

Clarke can see the smile on Lexa’s face reflected in the blue light, so she’s not surprised when Lexa merely shrugs and doesn’t bother to respond otherwise. That doesn’t stop Clarke from pouting though. She’s never been a huge fan of surprises, but she doesn’t argue. She glances down at Lexa’s hand resting on her thigh, her fingers tracing circles in her jeans. A smile tugs at her lips and Clarke feels herself relax into Lexa’s touch. When she brings her hand to meet Lexa’s, their fingers intertwine with ease, and Lexa strokes the back of her hand with her thumb. The rest of the car ride passes in silence. Lexa drives Kurt back along the same roads they took out to the park until Clarke sees the familiar Arkadia campus up ahead.

“We’re going back to campus?” Clarke questions, and Lexa only nods once.

A few minutes later, Lexa pulls into her regular parking spot on the outskirts of a commuter parking lot and removes the keys from the ignition. She doesn’t say anything before she gets out of the car, but Clarke follows her. The girls meet at the back of the little blue car and Lexa ties their hands together once more like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“What are you studying?” Lexa asks, leading them into campus.

“Graphic design,” Clarke explains. “I started off as a chemistry major, but barely made it through the first semester before I realized that was a huge mistake.”

“Not a fan of science then?” Lexa questions, and then makes a left onto the main street that leads through campus.

“It’s not that I don’t like science,” Clarke explains. “But there are too many rules. I want a career with less rules.”

“Creative freedom,” Lexa says with understanding. “I can appreciate that.”

“I like being able to see and understand things,” Clarke continues. “Chemistry just talked about a bunch of things I could never see and so could never understand except in theory. It just wasn’t a good match for me.”

“What made you choose chemistry in the first place?” Lexa stops at the corner of an intersection, looks both ways, and then leads them across the street. Clarke has only been to this side of campus a handful of times over the last four years.

“My dad was a scientist,” Clarke says solemnly. “Science helped me feel close to him.”

Lexa doesn’t overlook the “was” in Clarke’s sentence, and she looks over at the girl. Clarke has her eyes focused on the ground, but she can see the sadness welling up in them regardless. She squeezes the girl’s hand, conveying her concern.

“He died when I was in high school,” Clarke continues, Lexa still squeezing her hand, letting her know she’s still there. She keeps her grounded. “He was perfectly fine one day, and then the next, he wasn’t. It just happened so fast. The doctors said he had a glioblastoma and it was in an area of the brain that they couldn’t operate because the tumor was too invasive.”

Lexa can hear the cracking in Clarke’s voice. Clarke holds onto Lexa’s hand like she’s the only thing that’s real to her, like if she lets go, she’ll float away. Lexa feels her heart break for the girl. She can only imagine a younger version of Clarke, one still navigating the tides of high school and coming out in a hostile environment, and then going through the loss of her father. It causes her heart to ache.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she says quietly, not sure what else to say. Clarke just nods silently, and Lexa isn’t sure if she’s trying to hold back tears or if she just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. Lexa curses herself for bringing up such a dismal topic and searches for something to brighten the mood.

“This is where we’re going,” Lexa says, pulling Clarke into the closest building. It’s a tall brick building with giant windows in the front, revealing lights of different colors displayed on the walls inside. Clarke has never been inside before, but she at least knows the building because it’s the second tallest on campus.

Inside, the floors are made with some kind of material that looks like it has glitter melted into it. Clarke can’t take her eyes off of it as she walks beside Lexa who watches Clarke out of the corner of her eyes. She leads Clarke to an elevator and presses the button with the up arrow on it.

“What are we doing here?” Clarke finally asks.

“I want to show you my favorite spot on campus,” Lexa explains, stepping inside when the doors finally open. Clarke follows her inside and watches Lexa press the button for the sixth floor. Then she decides that elevator rides are awkward no matter who you’re riding with because the two girls both stare at the floor as the metal box rises from one floor to the next.

When the elevator finally stops and the doors open, Clarke and Lexa step outside into a long hallway that stretches left and right. Clarke feels goosebumps rise along her neck because the lights function on motion sensors. As soon as they step outside, the lights illuminate in both directions, welcoming them.

“I know, it’s kind of creepy, but I’ve spent so many nights in this building,” Lexa says, taking the right wing of the hallway all the way to the end. At the end of the hallway stands a large black door. A large green sign reads “EXIT” over the door, and there’s a window to the right of the door.

“An exit on the sixth floor?” Clarke questions, looking at Lexa with concern.

“Trust me, okay?” Lexa squeezes her hand again and looks into her eyes. Clarke knows that she’d trust the girl even if she told her to help her bury a body and ask her to keep the murder weapon for safe keeping. Lexa smiles at her one time before turning around and placing her hands at the bottom of the window. With one pull upward, the window opens wide enough. She glances back at Clarke one more time, and then pulls herself through the window.

Seconds later, the big black door opens and Lexa stands on the other side, the night’s sky acting as a backdrop behind the brunette. Clarke steps through the door and finds herself on a small platform outside the building. A ladder is built into the wall in front of her, which she can only assume leads to the roof. She barely has time to process this when Lexa reaches for the first rung of the ladder and pulls herself up, looking back at Clarke expectantly. Excitement moves her forward, reaching for the ladder as Lexa ascends up to the next level.

The metal is cold beneath her fingertips, and it actually hurts when she wraps her hands around it. But when Clarke reaches the top, she doesn’t know if she should smile or cry or scream.

With nothing but sky above her, Clarke feels like she’s standing on top of the world. She can see the rest of campus laid out before her. Everything looks so small from up here, like the campus is nothing but a town of building blocks and toy cars. She can see everything from the science building to the library and Polis Hall, and Clarke has never felt so big. It’s that same sensation when a person climbs to the top of the mountain and can’t decide if they should yell that they’re the king of the world or simply marvel in the sight that unfolds before them.

Then she can feel Lexa’s hands on her hips again, her front pushed against Clarke’s back. She nuzzles her head into the crook of Clarke’s neck and it feels so intimate that Clarke can’t help but shiver.

“I used to come up here every night. I’d have class into the evenings, and then I’d come up here with Phoebe and play the whole night away,” she explained. “Distance made college seem so much simpler.”

“Yeah, I can see what you mean,” Clarke responds, her eyes taking in the sights in front of her. She can see almost every building of campus, and even the line of houses outside of campus where her roommates are probably sleeping by now. She can see the whole world of Arkadia University in one snapshot, and it makes that world seem so much smaller and so much less overwhelming. It makes it all seem so much easier.

With that thought, Clarke spins around in Lexa’s arms, bringing their fronts together. Lexa doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around Clarke’s back, holding her close. Clarke reaches for Lexa’s face, her fingertips brushing against her temple and along the profile of her face and then her jaw. They finish at the corner of her lips, lingering there, wrapped in contentment.

“Thank you for sharing this with me,” she whispers, blue and green meeting in the darkness. Lexa smiles before she brings a hand up to Clarke’s face and pulls her closer. Their lips meet slowly and gently, but Clarke still feels her heart race inside her chest. She wonders if it will still have the same effect after she’s kissed Lexa a thousand times, and then she smiles at the thought, because she fully intends to find out.


	6. Chapter 6

Clarke and Lexa spend hours on the rooftop, but Clarke convinces herself that time passes differently from her perch. Her eyes trace the cars that drive through campus until their red taillights disappear around a corner. Every now and then, she’ll spot a pedestrian crossing a street or walking underneath a streetlight by the library, but those are few and far between. The world of campus continues on as usual while she stands by, an innocent onlooker.

While Clarke watches the world carry on without her, Lexa watches Clarke instead. She watches the way her eyes slowly engulf all that happens on the ground beneath her. She observes the way her eyes won’t stop following a car until it has vanished entirely. She can’t help but notice how her eyes never stop moving, never stay in one place for too long. A smile creases into Lexa’s face, just watching the girl and wondering what goes through her mind as she etches the sights into her thoughts.

The girls talk about everything and nothing at the same time. Lexa explains how she left home at a young age to escape the parents who had never wanted her. It worked too, because they never came looking for her. She lived on the streets for a month or two before the authorities finally picked her up, and then she spent the next few years in the system. At the beginning of her eighth grade year, Lexa was placed in the care of her foster parents who housed her until she graduated high school. The man and woman were the closest things she’d ever had to parents, and their daughter, Anya, was and still is the closest thing she’ll ever have to a sister.

Clarke explains her parents and all of the crazy adventures the three of them had. The trio spent a lot of time traveling in Clarke’s younger years, and she had been to places that Lexa had only read about on the internet. Clarke’s eyes light up when she talks about the Italian countryside and the beaches of New Zealand. But as Clarke grew older, she began to realize that her perfect parents weren’t as perfect as she thought. Her ears began to register the angry voices that tried to remain hushed behind closed doors. She learned about passive aggression and how her mother was the almighty queen of it. Still, her parents tried to keep things together for Clarke’s sake, and they did still love each other in some way.

When Clarke’s dad got diagnosed with cancer, everything changed. Her parents stopped fighting, but Clarke’s mom cried all the time. Laughter ceased to exist in their household and Clarke could feel the dark gray cloud that hovered above the house on a daily basis. Pieces of that gray cloud would seep into Clarke a little bit more every day, and Clarke learned that it would never go away. It took six months after her father’s diagnosis for the tumor to take his life.

Lexa wraps her arm around Clarke’s waist when she finishes talking about her dad, pulls her close and does everything she can to protect her from the pain of the past. Clarke lets her arms encircle Lexa too, and the two stand there in silence until the gray cloud in Clarke’s chest begins to evaporate. She focuses instead on the pressure of Lexa pressed up against her, of the way her hair falls down her back, and of the way her delicate fingers trace circles into her back. A small hum crawls up her throat and it soothes them both.

Finally the cold starts to get the better of them once again. Both of them have their coats wrapped tightly around them, but they both refuse to secure their hands inside their pockets, simply because they don’t want to stop touching each other. They only agree to leave when Clarke can hear the chattering of Lexa’s teeth through their conversation.

The walk back to the car seems to take much longer than the first time. The wind has grown stronger, but the buildings offer some protection from the freezing gusts. Clarke has her arm linked with Lexa’s while they both have their hands inside their pockets now. The wind tosses their hair back and forth and they both struggle to keep the strands out of their eyes. When they finally reach the edge of the parking lot, Clarke feels the urge to run to the car. When her muscles bunch to launch her forward, however, they remind her of their exhaustion from ice skating in the cold and flat out refuse to cooperate.

 

\------

 

Only minutes later, Lexa pulls her car alongside the curb outside Clarke’s house. The lights are still on inside and Clarke swears she sees Raven and Octavia duck behind the curtain when she glances at the front window. A sinking feeling slides over her though because she doesn’t want the night to end. Lexa has her hand in Clarke’s lap, folded between both of Clarke’s hands. They’re hands are still cold, but they don’t hurt anymore at least.

“I hope you had fun tonight,” Lexa says quietly, shifting the car into park. Clarke can feel her gaze fall on her, but Clarke doesn’t make eye contact for fear that it will draw the night to an end. She draws her attention to the clock on the radio instead, which glows back 11:47.

“You listened to Raven’s curfew,” Clarke says, gesturing at the clock. Lexa glances at it and shrugs, a smile spreading across her face.

“I think I want Raven in my corner. Probably best to just play along,” she says. Truthfully she still hadn’t decided if Raven had been kidding or not about Clarke’s midnight curfew, but had listened to the girl anyway. Anyone protective of Clarke is good in Lexa’s book, and Raven is at the top of that list at this point.

“Beautiful _and_ smart,” Clarke responds, finally leading her gaze to meet Lexa’s. That electricity surrounds them again, hangs in the air like the humidity before a thunderstorm. She feels that same calming sensation crash over her like saltwater, pulling her down into comforting waves of green eyes and strong arms.

Clarke decides that Lexa must not be used to receiving compliments, because she breaks the eye contact and looks down at her lap even though a smile spreads across her face. The blue lights from the radio and dashboard hold her secret, but Clarke is sure that her cheeks turn red. She squeezes Lexa’s hand reassuringly and then Lexa looks back at her, her eyes swimming with some kind of emotion that Clarke can’t identify, but it makes her heart race.

“I should get you inside before the carriage turns back into a pumpkin,” Lexa jokes, pointing down at the clock that now says 11:53. Clarke rolls her eyes habitually. Great, more Cinderella references.

Clarke sighs but unbuckles her seatbelt anyway and so does Lexa.

“You really don’t have to walk me to the door. It’s literally ten steps,” Clarke objects, but Lexa opens the door anyway and steps out. Clarke joins her on the side of the car and they link hands before walking toward the house. When they reach the front door, Lexa pulls Clarke back into her and pulls her against her chest. One hand curves around her lower back, and the other reaches up to push a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

“But if I didn’t walk you to the door, then I couldn’t kiss you good night on the door step,” Lexa’s voice drops an octave and Clarke’s heart does backflips and somersaults and tumbles and everything else. Lexa can see it in her face too because that infamous smirk makes another appearance on her lips. Clarke rolls her eyes teasingly, but smiles anyway, reaching her arms around Lexa.

The distance between them closes quickly, like it never should have been there in the first place. All of the tension and static in the air culminates into this one kiss and Clarke feels grateful for Lexa’s arms around her to keep her grounded. The butterflies in her chest become so excited that Clarke thinks they might carry her away if it weren’t for Lexa holding her so tightly. Lexa’s fingers loop into Clarke’s hair and Clarke lets her hands slide down to Lexa’s hips. Lexa feels goosebumps follow Clarke’s hands until they settle on her hips and she has to choke back the moan that rises in her throat.

Lexa wants to pin Clarke against the door and kiss her breathless. She wants to slip her hands under her shirt and touch the hot skin underneath. She wants to drag her lips from Clarke’s mouth and suck on her neck until Clarke says her name. She wants to do everything and so much more, but she buries those feelings because she doesn’t want to scare Clarke. She doesn’t want this to turn out a one-night stand with another meaningless nobody. So she just kisses her, softly and tentatively, until Clarke pulls away and stares back at her with big blue eyes that Lexa wants to drown in.

Then the door swings open.

“It’s midnight,” is all that Raven says before closing the door again. It all happened so fast that Clarke and Lexa stare at each other for just a second and then can’t help but laugh. Clarke can feel Lexa laughing against her and it makes her whole body shake.

“You should get in there,” Lexa gestures toward the door and Clarke nods reluctantly, slowing pulling her hands away from Lexa’s hips. She turns toward the door, then hesitates to look back at Lexa.

She looks so beautiful standing there on her doorstep. She wants to reach out and take her hand and sneak her up to her bedroom, but knows that Raven and Octavia will never let her get away with that. A wide smile spreads across her face, her heart swelling twice its size.

“I had a great time tonight, really,” she says. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” She says it like a question, even though there’s only one answer that she’s willing to accept.

“Of course,” Lexa responds, the answer that Clarke had expected. “Good night, Clarke.”

Clarke smiles and pushes the front door open and then disappears behind it. When Lexa is left alone at the porch, she lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and the widest smile splits her face in half. Her heart beats so fast that she thinks it might explode, but in the best way possible. As she turns around and starts walking back to Kurt, she can’t help but wonder if she’s doing the right thing.

 

\------

 

“Cutting it close there, Clarke,” Raven teases from the couch, Octavia sitting beside her. Both girls wear their pajamas and a movie plays on the tv across the room, a bowl of popcorn sitting on the coffee table.

Clarke hasn’t stopped smiling.

“They totally made out,” Octavia says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“No shit,” Raven replies, looking down at Octavia with a duh kind of look on her face, and then she turns her attention back to Clarke. “How was it? Was she good? Where’d you guys go?”

“She was…” Clarke trails off, looking for the right words to describe Lexa, but there aren’t any words and Clarke shakes her head. “She was amazing,” Clarke finally settles but it still doesn’t seem good enough. “We went ice skating.”

Raven and Octavia both turn to look at Clarke, expressions of disbelief displayed on their faces. It’s not an unknown fact that Clarke is one of the clumsiest, most uncoordinated people in their group of friends. Raven coughs on a popcorn kernel.

“And you’re still alive?” she asks incredulously.

“Nothing’s broken?” Octavia adds.

Clarke just rolls her eyes and shakes her head. Her friends look her over from head to toe as if they expect to find a cast or broken bone sticking out of her body that she’d just overlooked. Clarke replays the events over in her head, from the first moment that Lexa put her hands on her waist to the foot massage to their first kiss on the bleachers. She imagines Arkadia’s campus laid out in front of her like a real life map and Lexa standing there beside her, always watching. She thinks about the way her lips taste and she feels her body turn warm.

“We mostly just talked,” Clarke says.

“And kissed,” Octavia finishes the sentence for her, a grin streaking across her face. Clarke smiles bashfully and looks down at her hands.

“Yeah, and kissed,” Clarke says, and her friends ask for details like they’re still 12-year-olds talking about the boys they kissed on the playground. Clarke relays the events of the evening back to her friends. She tells them about the park out in the middle of nowhere and ice skating rink where Lexa had shown her what elegance and gracefulness really looks like. She tells them about the way Lexa skated behind her and stopped her from falling, how the soreness in her legs makes it hard to walk, and about Lexa’s magic fingers. She tells them about the almost kiss before the lights went out and the stars in the sky and then the actual first kiss.

Octavia watches Clarke with wide eyes and hangs onto every word, and Raven mostly just rolls her eyes in some spots and makes a remark about how cheesy it all sounds. Clarke finishes telling her story anyway, about the roof of the building on campus – Raven points out that it’s the music building, which makes sense. She tells them about the conversations they had and about all the ways that Lexa made her smile and the way campus seems so much smaller from far away. When she finishes the story, both Octavia and Raven smile at the girl. It’s been so long since they’ve seen Clarke this way, genuinely and authentically happy.

“Guitar Girl’s got some moves, I’ll give her that,” Raven says. “When’s the next date?”

Clarke shrugs. “Who knows if there will be one?”

Raven rolls her eyes so hard it makes her dizzy, and Octavia shoves the girl for her ridiculousness. Clarke just laughs though, because she had been kidding anyway.

“I honestly don’t know, but…” Clarke trails off again, words failing her for the second time. “Fuck, I can’t stop smiling.”

 

\------

 

Just a few miles away, Lexa struggles to force the key into her apartment door. Her hands are still cold and won’t function correctly, though she’s not sure if it’s due to the cold or the high that she’s been riding since she left Clarke’s. She finally situates the key correctly and it slides into the lock. She turns it and pushes the door open.

“Shut up, she’s back,” Lexa hears the whisper before she closes the door behinds her, and when she walks into the apartment, she finds Anya and Nyko sitting on the barstools behind the kitchen counter.

“Don’t end the conversation on my account,” Lexa says, dropping her car keys on the counter and then leaning against it. Nyko raises his eyebrows and excuses himself to Anya’s bedroom, claiming he has to use the bathroom.

“I was just telling Nyko you were on a date,” Anya explains. “I didn’t think you’d come back tonight. You know, typical Lexa.”

Lexa sighs because, yes, she knows typical Lexa. Typical Lexa who had walls built so high that a person could barely see the top. Typical Lexa who only craved the affection of others for one night at a time. Typical Lexa who would sneak out in the morning before the girl woke up and then never speak to them again. The only people that Lexa had ever let behind those walls were Anya and Costia… but let’s not go there just yet.

“I don’t know, Anya. She’s different,” Lexa confides and Anya’s expression turns soft. Anya met Lexa when she was sixteen and Lexa was thirteen. Her parents had welcomed foster kids into her home before, but none that she bonded with like Lexa. The girl was so broken and strong at the same time. She never argued with her parents or gave them a hard time. She would mostly just sit in her bedroom and read, keep her head down. Her parents had tried to connect with her, tried to give her a normal life while they still could, but Lexa withdrew every time they offered her a hand. She went to school, she got good grades, and she never caused problems. She wasn’t a bad kid; she was simply a child that nobody wanted, and that broke Anya’s heart.

“Different how?” Anya questions, treading lightly. She knows that if she pushes too far, Lexa will retreat. It’s a game she’s learned to play well over the years, like that game Don’t Break the Ice, where you try to remove one block at a time without causing the whole surface to shatter.

“For starters, I want to actually see her again,” Lexa says, and that alone surprises Anya.

“Did you guys fuck?” She asks, and Lexa shakes her head. Anya’s eyes grow wide with disbelief. “Damn, what the fuck have you been doing all night?”

“We just talked,” Lexa shrugs, and Anya can feel that protective sibling side of her wake up a little. She hasn’t seen Lexa like this in years, and it hadn’t ended well the last time. Part of her wants to lock Lexa in her room and protect her from this girl and the feelings Lexa is having, but then again, there’s a part of her that’s glad to see that Lexa isn’t an emotionless robot like she feared.

“Did you want to have sex with her?” Anya questions, wondering if maybe this could be just a friendship and not another Costia. But Lexa doesn’t even have to answer the question before Anya knows that friendship is definitely not what’s on Lexa’s mind. “Okay, you definitely want to fuck her. Got it.”

Lexa laughs and finally moves around Anya to take a seat on Nyko’s barstool. She rests her elbows on the counter and puts her head in her hands. Anya reaches over and rubs her back reassuringly. “You’re going to be fine, kid. Just see how it plays out.”

“I’m scared to see how it plays out,” Lexa finally admits, closing her eyes as the words echo out loud. “I can’t go through another Costia situation, Anya. I can’t.”

Anya clicks her tongue and turns to face the girl, her hand still placed comfortingly on her back. “Costia was a bitch, Lex. That doesn’t mean this girl is too.”

“Clarke.”

“What?”

“Clarke. Her name is Clarke,” Lexa says.

“Oh,” Anya responds. “Yeah, that doesn’t mean that Clarke’s a bitch too.”

There was a time when Lexa would’ve opened her mouth to argue, to yell at Anya for calling Costia what she was. But Lexa had grown tired of defending the girl after everything she’d done and finally she accepted the cruel things that Anya said about her. Part of it even made her feel better.

“I didn’t think Costia was a bitch at the time either,” Lexa shifts her head into one hand and angles to look at Anya.

“Yeah, well I did. So just let me meet this Clarke girl and I’ll let you know if you should run for the hills or jump her bones. Sound good?” She nudges the girl jokingly, and Lexa laughs and shakes her head.

“It’s been one day. I’m not bringing her anywhere near your crazy ass any time soon,” Lexa replies. “You’ll scare her away.”

“Valid point,” Anya nods, but the girls laugh Anya feels relief at the sound. She knows deep down that she would do anything to protect Lexa, but she also knows that Clarke could end up being the best thing for her too, if things go well.

“What are you drinking?” Lexa asks suddenly, reaching for the glass sitting in front of Anya. Water soaks the counter when she lifts it, the glass covered in sweat. She brings the edge to her lips and then tips the liquid back. “Jack and Coke,” Lexa concludes. “My favorite. 

Anya doesn’t bother asking for her drink back because Lexa downs it in all of three gulps.

 

\------

 

“Hello?”

Clarke doesn’t remember hearing her phone ring, and she doesn’t remember answering it either. Her voice is heavy with sleep and her dreams call her back to the land of slumber, but then she hears a voice on the other end of the line.

“Is this Clarke???” The voice is unfamiliar, but she can hear every word accentuated with alcohol.

“Um, yes? Who is this?” Clarke asks, becoming more coherent. She pulls the phone away from her ear to look at the screen, and she’s confused when she sees Lexa’s name. “Lexa?”

“Nope! This is Anya,” the girl responds, and Clarke remembers Lexa mentioning Anya on the rooftop earlier that night. Lexa’s sister but not “real” sister but might as well be her real sister. Anya giggles into the phone and Clarke hears a ruckus followed by more laughter and then a frantic Lexa.

“ANYA! Give me the phone!!!!” Clarke can hear Lexa struggling to regain possession of her phone, and then concludes that Anya must be the strongest person on the planet if she can hold of Lexa. When she speaks again, she seems unfazed by Lexa’s attempts.

“Clarke, did you know that Lexa wants to have sex with you?” Anya asks, and Clarke doesn’t know if she should answer or not but she feels her face flush hot.

“Oh my god, Anya, STOP!”

On the other end of the line, Lexa and Anya wrestle on the living room floor for possession of the hostage cell phone. Anya has Lexa pinned to the ground, straddling her hips with one hand holding her down and the other hand holding the phone to her ear. A sober Lexa could get out of this hold no problem, but a drunk Lexa with a semi-sober Anya makes it a little more challenging.

“Well, Clarke, she does. She really does. If I have to listen to her talk about you anymore tonight, I might kill her.”

Anya is silent while Lexa assumes Clarke says something back to her. Anya stares down at her, a smile permanently placed on her face as she watches Lexa struggle to free herself. They both know that Lexa is definitely the stronger of the two, and Anya revels in the power she has over her while the alcohol makes her world blurry.

“Just have sex with her, okay? For my own fucking sake.”

Finally Lexa gives up and stops struggling. Why fucking bother at this point? What’s been done has been done and there’s no way that Lexa can reconcile the situation. She glares up at Anya, cursing her with every profanity she has ever known. It only makes Anya laugh harder and she presses the phone more tightly to her ear to hear Clarke’s response.

“Okay, she’s officially cursing me in German now so I better give the phone back to her. Nice talking to you, Clarke.”

Anya pulls the phone away from her ear and hands it to Lexa, still pinned to the ground.

“She’s funny, I think I like her,” Anya tells her before lifting herself off of Lexa and disappearing down the hallway. Lexa sits up finally and the world spins faster, the Jack causing her mind to betray her. She sits there for a few seconds to orient herself and the world slows back down to its normal pace. Then she looks at her phone and realizes that the call is still connected.

“Clarke?” she asks, raising the phone to her ear.

“Hey,” Clarke responds, and Lexa feels drunk all over again at the sound of her voice.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Lexa says, her words slurring just a little bit but still trying to manage her best sober state of mind. “She’s so drunk.”

“Not as drunk as you, it seems,” Clarke says, laughing into the phone. Lexa raises her hand to her head and runs her long fingers through her messy hair. So she’s too drunk to seem sober.

“Yeah,” Lexa says, laughing nervously. “Jack and Cokes get me every time.”

“For some reason I had you pegged as a vodka kind of girl,” Clarke says.

“Ew, absolutely fucking not.” The disgust in Lexa’s voice makes Clarke laugh again. “Might as well drink rubbing alcohol.”

“Are you still drinking?” Clarke asks, and she lies back down on her pillow and lets the phone rest on her face.

“No, I’m sitting in the middle of the floor and my drink is too far away,” Lexa says, glancing up at the breakfast bar where her drink still rests.

“That’s a good thing,” Clarke tells her, and Lexa pouts even though she can’t see her. “You need to go to sleep.”

Lexa frowns. “My bed is so far away.” Clarke smiles because Lexa sounds like a toddler and it’s so unlike her.

“I know, but you can make it.” Lexa refuses again. “Please?”

The tenderness in Clarke’s voice makes Lexa’s heart melt and Lexa has to fight the urge to crawl over into Clarke’s bed instead of her own. She opens her mouth to say just that, but then she feels her sober mind profusely object to that idea. Instead, she decides to listen to Clarke and forces herself to stand on her feet. She sways for a second and then starts to make her way toward her room.

“Lexa?” Clarke asks, the line falling silent for a little too long.

“I’m here,” she says, bouncing off a wall as she stumbles to her room. “I think the walls have moved.”

Clarke laughs and finally Lexa makes it to her room. She doesn’t bother removing her shoes or any of her clothes before falling face first onto her bed, the pillows welcoming her warmly.

“Oh my god, I love my bed,” she says into the phone and Clarke smiles.

“I’ll let you go so you can get some sleep, okay?”

“No, don’t go.” Lexa’s voice sounds more desperate than she will ever admit, and she hopes in the morning that neither she nor Clarke will remember it. The line is silent for a moment, because Clarke’s breath gets caught in her chest, and then Clarke responds.

“Okay, I’m here.” Lexa smiles and somehow manages to kick her boots off without untying them. She unbuttons her jeans and tries to shimmy them down her legs, but she struggles.

“Everything okay over there?” Clarke asks after hearing a few grunts and complaints.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m trying to get my pants off,” Lexa tells her, and Clarke feels an aching inside of her that she tries to push away. She tries not to think about Lexa undressing herself on the other end of the phone. She tries, but she fails.

“Stop thinking about me naked,” Lexa says when Clarke doesn’t respond. She finally manages to maneuver her jeans down her thighs and past her knees down to her ankles, and then she kicks them unceremoniously to the floor. Clarke exhales sharply when she laughs, and a satisfied smirk spreads across Lexa’s face.

“I make no promises,” Clarke responds quietly, pulling the phone closer to her like it’s actually Lexa.

“Perv,” Lexa teases, but her voice purrs and Clarke doesn’t deny the accusation.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the one who’s been talking about sex with me all night,” Clarke teases and Lexa feels the color drain from her face, taking the rest of her buzz. Fuck, she’d forgotten about that. Damn it, Anya. She bites her bottom lip, well, gnaws on it really. Clarke giggles in her ear because she can feel Lexa struggling through the phone. She can feel that electric charge between them even though it’s only a phone call that connects the two.

“Yeah, about that…” Lexa begins, but doesn’t know what to say after that. She opens and closes her mouth two or three times, struggling to conjure the words that will recover the situation.

“It’s okay, Lexa,” Clarke reassures. “You were drunk. I won’t hold it against you.”

“No, I mean, but I do,” she starts, then back pedals. “I mean- that’s not what I meant- well, yes it is but- not like- _fuck..._ “ Lexa doesn’t even know what words are anymore.

Clarke swoons at the disheveled Lexa. It’s such a contrast to the confident, charismatic Lexa she’d spent the evening with. The fact that it’s Clarke that’s got her so flustered sets Clarke’s skin on fire. “You should be here.”

“What?”

“You should be here, right now, in my bed with me.”

Lexa doesn’t even hesitate.

“I’m on my way.”

Clarke laughs out loud. “You’ve been drinking!”

“I don’t care,” Lexa responds, and Clarke thinks she’s actually going to do it.

“Lexa, no. You’re not driving over here after drinking so much.”

Lexa groans into the phone, her free hand reaching to rub her forehead with frustration. “Then why would you tell me to? That’s just rude.”

“I’m sorry,” Clarke responds, even though she’s anything but sorry. She grips the blankets and pulls them closer to her, wrapping herself into a tight cocoon of blankets. She can’t help but wish they were Lexa’s arms wrapped around her instead.

“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you,” Lexa says, and she’s sure it’s the last remnants of the alcohol that push the words out of her mouth. She feels her breath catch in her throat. Her chest gets tight while she waits for Clarke to respond.

“I wish you were kissing me,” Clarke confesses, her eyes closing at the thought of Lexa’s lips on her again. Lexa hums and she can’t stop thinking about all the places she wants to kiss Clarke and Clarke has similar ideas on her mind. She can feel her eyelids growing heavy and the thought of Lexa touching her only settles her deeper into her cocoon of blankets.

“I’m falling asleep,” Clarke whispers into the phone.

“Do you want me to hang up?” Lexa asks, sorely disappointed.

“No,” Clarke responds. “Stay with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to say thanks for reading this far and your feedback means the world to me! I just wanted to let you know that I have a rotation coming up next week and so chapters might not get uploaded as quickly, but please try to bear with me! :)


	7. Chapter 7

When Clarke’s alarm goes off right against her ear, Clarke nearly dies. No, seriously. The intense sound startles her so much that her heart freezes, and then it beats a mile a minute. Her muscles tense and jerk her from her bed before she has time to register what’s happening. Without coordination and sense of balance, the girl sways unsteadily on her feet until she reaches for the wall for support. Clarke stands like this for a few minutes, trying to focus on her breathing – in through the nose, out through the mouth. Her heart rate slowly declines and she can feel the grip of anxiety loosen around her chest.

Sleep in general hasn’t been very good for Clarke for years now, not since her father passed away. Night terrors often woke her in the middle of the night, either screaming or crying or drenched in cold sweat. After several months of this pattern, the girl had just given up on sleeping entirely until she passed out from exhaustion. This continued throughout high school. Her friends would often comment on the dark bags under her eyes, but she waved it off and brought up a new topic instead.

Things got a little better when she went away to college. The change of environment helped her to put her father’s death behind her, because there were less things around to remind her of him. The night terrors would only plague her dreams every couple of months, but the sudden shock of her alarm had simulated a similar response. That same anxiety and fear woke like a sleeping monster.

With her breathing back to normal and her heart rate lower than that of a racehorse, Clarke sits down on the edge of her bed and reaches for her phone. Her regular 8 am alarm had woken her for her 9 am class, and she curses herself for forgetting to turn the damn thing off. This is not how she had wanted to start the Monday of her spring break. After shutting off the rest of her alarms and clicking the home screen, Clarke realizes her phone is still actively connected to a phone call.

She clicks on the green streak at the top of the screen and it brings up her phone call with Lexa. The remaining anxiety poking her like a pin in her side fades away when she sees the girl’s name, the conversation from the night before flooding back to her. A smile tugs at her lips and she brings the phone up to her ear curiously. The gentle inhales and exhales of a sleeping Lexa transmit through the line and Clarke finds a certain amount of comfort in the breathy sounds. She swings her legs up onto the bed and returns her head to the pillow, the phone still pressed to her ear

“Lexa?” she whispers into the phone, but only the soft sounds of Lexa’s breath respond. Clarke recalls the level of intoxication she’d experienced last night and figures Lexa will probably sleep most of the day today. “That hangover’s going to be a bitch,” she whispers again, and still no response, so Clarke lets the sounds of Lexa’s breathing comfort her further. When sleepiness starts to edge back into her mind, she pulls the phone from her ear and presses the red button, and then drifts back to sleep.

 

\------

 

Lexa doesn’t even have time to open her eyes in the morning before the pounding in her head brings her to consciousness. She absentmindedly removes her hand from under her pillow and rubs at her temple, trying to soothe the aggressive hangover but with no success. A groan rumbles in her chest and edges up her throat, which is dry and hoarse with dehydration. When the girl opens her mouth, she can already taste the regret on her breath.

Lexa rolls onto her back and brings both hands up to her head, trying to block the sunlight from her eyes and massage her headache. That’s when she feels the phone pressed up against her face and she remembers her phone call with Clarke. She sighs heavily, closing her eyes tightly in an attempt to block out the memories, but they come anyway. She remembers talking with Anya, and Anya taking her phone, and then a phone call with Clarke, but the details remain fuzzy.

She reluctantly pulls a hand away from her head and reaches for the phone. The surface is sticky with drool and Lexa wipes at it with the edge of her hand. However, the phone’s screen lights up as usual. Clarke must have hung up at some point during the night, because her phone shows no active calls. Curiosity gets the better of her and she clicks on her most recent calls. Clarke’s name shows up at the top of the list and she clicks on it. The phone call began at 2:12 a.m. and lasted for five hours and fifty-seven minutes. Lexa tries to do the math in her head, but the hangover aggressively refuses the calculations and Lexa surrenders.

Lexa drops the phone at her side and then stares blankly up at the ceiling, trying to recall the events of the night before, but also a little grateful that she can’t remember all of them. Her date with Clarke remains vivid in her memory. She remembers the look on Clarke’s face, filled with excitement and a little bit of terror, when she saw the ice skating rink. She remembers the way Clarke stared at the night’s sky with awe and wonder, and the way it gave her the confidence to pull Lexa close to her. She remembers the rooftop and the campus and the cold and holding Clarke’s hand. She remembers every second of every kiss and how she never wanted to stop kissing the blonde.

But after she arrived home and poured the alcohol down her throat, things become uncertain. Anya stole her phone and she called Clarke. Lexa wrestled her over the phone, but can’t remember specifics of what was said. Clarke’s voice had been heavy and sleepy when she talked to her, so she assumes she must’ve woken her up. Lexa grimaces, feeling stupid and childish for the drunken phone call. It’s so unlike her to get sloppy and make a fool of herself, but then again, this entire situation is so unlike Lexa.

“You awake?” Anya calls softly from the door, and Lexa startles just a little because she hadn’t even heard the door open. She slowly peels her eyes open, still feeling a little insulted by the sun’s brightness in her room. Anya stares back at her from the doorway until she sees Lexa’s eyes open, and then she pushes the door the rest of the way open.

“How’s the hangover?” She asks, and there’s a little concern in her voice but there’s also a lot of amusement. She enters the room and sits down on the edge of Lexa’s bed, just next to her feet, and rests a hand on her ankles.

“Fucking sucks,” Lexa responds, her voice thick and raspy. Anya clicks her tongue and shrugs at the girl.

“I tried to stop you after your fourth, but you wouldn’t listen.” Lexa doesn’t respond, but reaches for a pillow instead. She considers throwing it at Anya, beating her with it until her head aches the way that hers does, but quickly realizes that she couldn’t do that even if she wanted to. Her muscles feel like pudding and she settles instead for pulling the pillow over her face. The pounding in her head relents ever so slightly with the absence of the sunlight, and Lexa finds a little bit of relief.

“What did you say to Clarke?” Lexa questions without removing the pillow from her head. Anya giggles at the sight of the girl with the blankets sprawled over half her body, one leg sticking out completely unprotected. She’s still got the pillow placed over her head, but brunette curls pour out from all sides of it.

“Nothing you would hate me for,” the girl says nonchalantly.

“The bruises on my knees from wrestling you to the ground lead me to believe otherwise,” Lexa says grudgingly, already feeling the black and purple marks forming on her body.

“I was the one wrestling you to the ground, thank you very much,” Anya teases. “You’re really losing your touch, Lex. It wasn’t even a challenge.”

Lexa pulls the pillow away from her face and stares at the girl. Even sick and hungover and Lexa still can’t refuse a challenge. “Try me when I’m sober and we’ll see how it goes.”

Anya rolls her eyes at the girl. She assumes her complex with being the strongest and best at everything comes from living in the system, with always trying to compete with the other kids. She’s learned not to egg the girl on. Lexa will always have the last word and she doesn’t let things go. “I told Clarke she should have sex with you.”

If Lexa didn’t feel sick before, she certainly does now, and Anya sees the look of panic spreading across her face.

“Oh, relax. She thought it was funny,” Anya says, squeezing the girl’s ankle. “Besides, it doesn’t seem to have done any damage considering you guys were up all night talking on the phone. I could hear your girly giggles from my bedroom.”

Lexa glances down at the girl, still not convinced, still so unsure of everything that’s going on. She feels like she’s standing on thin ice that could crack any minute, even though she loves the exhilaration of it all. Spending time with Clarke has brought Lexa more joy in such a short amount of time than she could imagine another person could instill in her, and while she finds it thrilling, she can also feel her heart rebel against it with every ounce of energy it can manage.

Anya reads it all on Lexa’s face; she’s gotten pretty good at it over the years. A comforting smile spreads across her face and she crawls up the bed to lie beside the girl.

“I know you’re scared,” Anya says, placing her elbow on the pillow and propping her head up to look down at Lexa. “But it’s all so new, Lex. It’s supposed to be scary, but it should be fun too. Don’t let your head get in the way of the fun. Just go with it and see what happens. Stop panicking.”

Lexa opens her mouth to argue. She wants to deny that she’s scared and wants to deny that she has any sort of real feelings for Clarke. A pressure builds in her chest and pushes against her ribs. It tells her that she’s weak, that feeling this way makes her weak. It makes her an easy target and it only sets her up to get hurt again. Everything she had learned in the system reminded her that getting attached to people only ends up with her getting hurt in the end, and Costia had only reinforced that lesson.

But Lexa doesn’t argue. She only nods and forces some kind of smile back in Anya’s direction.

“What did you guys talk about last night?” Anya asks, and Lexa shrugs.

“I honestly don’t remember,” she says, her face grimacing. Her mind tries to reach back in time to replay the events of the phone call, but all she remembers is bouncing off the walls on her way to her bedroom and struggling to get her pants off after she crawled into bed.

Anya laughs. “I cannot wait to see how your conversation with her today goes.”

Lexa swallows nervously, her headache returning in full force. She can feel the pressure of her cell phone pressing into her leg like a brick, suddenly hyper aware of its presence. Her mouth starts to water and she feels a familiar sensation building in her stomach and rising up the back of her throat. Before she has time to think about it, she tosses off her blankets and lunges from her bed, directly for the bathroom.

Anya just laughs and rolls her eyes. “Lightweight.”

 

\------

 

“Put the phone down.”

Clarke slams her phone down on the coffee table harder than she meant to and then she rests her forehead on the table. She groans dramatically and Octavia shakes her head at the girl. This is the third time Raven has had to tell her to stop looking at her phone.

“Why don’t you just text her?” Raven asks from the couch, looking down at Clarke sitting on the floor with her head resting on the coffee table. She balances a bowl of cereal in her lap while Octavia sits next to her, clicking through channels on the television.

“I don’t want to wake her up if she’s still sleeping,” Clarke explains, even though it’s almost two in the afternoon at this point. Still, she didn’t know what kind of person Lexa was when it came to alcohol. Maybe she was the type to wake up early and go for breakfast or maybe she was the type to spend all day lounging around in sweatpants.

“Didn’t stop her from calling you at 2:30 last night,” Octavia points out, not looking away from the tv screen. After searching through the channels three times, she finally surrenders and clicks the Netflix button at the top of the remote and begins flipping through movies.

“Anya called me, not Lexa,” Clarke says, finally lifting her head from the coffee table and glancing back at her friends. Raven shovels another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“Right,” Raven says, even though her mouth is full. She swallows the food quickly. “And who is Anya again?”

“Her foster parent’s daughter,” Clarke explains. “Basically her sister, but not really her sister.”

Raven eyes the girl for a second and then nods hesitantly, turning her attention back to her food.

“Why did she call you?” Octavia questions, now flipping through the horror section of Netflix. The titles are cheesy and the summaries are even worse. Very few of the selections have more than two stars, but the girls enjoyed making a laugh about the terrible acting and poorly written plots. Octavia finds one from 2016 with almost four stars and presses play, not bothering to read what it’s about.

“They got drunk and Lexa apparently wouldn’t stop talking about me,” Clarke explains, deciding to leave out the part about Lexa also talking about how she wants to have sex with Clarke. She glances down at her phone again and curses the damn thing.

“Which is why you should just text her,” Raven says, her eyes trained on the tv. The screen focuses in on a house in the woods, some obnoxious music playing overhead. Clarke shrugs in response to Raven, who just rolls her eyes. “Fine, then stop checking your phone and watch this damn movie with us.”

Clarke sighs and climbs onto the couch between her two friends, purposely flipping her phone face down on the coffee table and leaving it there. Octavia cuddles into Clarke, and Raven pushes her cold foot underneath Clarke’s thigh for warmth. They haven’t had a movie day like this in Clarke doesn’t even know how long, and she sinks deeper into the couch with Octavia.

“The music in these movies is the worst,” Raven complains. “It’s not even music.”

The screen shows a woman in the house in the woods, preparing dinner for herself. The sound coming from the scene isn’t even music. It’s just a sort of empty noise, like the sound of blood rushing in your ears or when it’s so silent that even the silence becomes loud. Clarke watches as the woman receives a text message and promptly responds, and then she glares at her own phone.

“I’m already bored,” Raven says, leaning forward to set her bowl full of warm milk on the coffee table. Octavia shushes her.

“Give it a chance. This one actually had a decent rating,” Octavia says, watching as the woman exchanges text messages with her neighbor, who arrives a few moments later. The woman and her neighbor sit down on the porch and exchange conversation, the main character’s portion completed in sign language.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, she’s not even going to talk? This is going the be the dumbe-“

“Raven, shut up!” Octavia demands, shooting her a glare from the other side of Clarke. Raven glares back but keeps quiet.

“I bet they have sex,” Clarke says, watching the interaction between the two women. They’re all body language and smiles, flirting subtly and laughing.

“You just have sex on your mind because you didn’t get any last night,” Raven teases and then looks at Clarke matter-of-factly when the neighbor mentions her husband.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Clarke responds, referring to the woman’s husband, not her lack of sex last night. Clarke would be lying if she said she hadn’t gone to bed frustrated last night and woken up with her hand in her pants.

The women’s conversation continues. Raven yawns dramatically, earning herself another reprimanding glare from Octavia, and Raven laughs. Then the neighbor points inside the house where smoke billows out from the stove and fire alarms flash like strobe lights. The women dart inside, the main character running for the fire alarm and the neighbor pulling the burnt piece of meat from the oven.

“Fire alarms don’t have lights on them. That’s stupid,” Raven observes.

“She’s deaf, idiot. She wouldn’t hear the alarm.”

“Then why do they make sound too?” Clarke asks. At that moment, the neighbor makes a comment about how loud the alarms had been, and the main character explains that they need to be loud enough that she can feel the vibrations from them. “Nevermind.”

Clarke zones out for the next few parts of the movie, watching but not really paying attention. The women go back outside and converse for a little while longer until the neighbor leaves and the main character returns inside to clean up her ruined dinner. She dodges a phone call from some guy and struggles to finish writing her book – apparently she’s a writer. Finally frustration overcomes her and she returns to the kitchen to finish cleaning.

All three of the girls jump when the neighbor returns, slamming into the door just a few feet away from the main character. She screams and pounds on the door, begging for the woman to see her, but she just continues cleaning. Then an arrow lodges into her back.

“What the fuck?” Raven comments, leaning in to watch closer.

The neighbor screams, still pounding on the door and screaming the woman’s name, but she never turns around. Then a man walks onto the screen, his face covered by a white mask that makes Clarke’s skin crawl and she feels Octavia shift closer to her. Even Raven inches closer. The masked man pushes the woman against the door and stabs her, purposely trying to get the woman’s attention. When she doesn’t turn around, he stabs the neighbor again, and again, and again. The camera zooms in on his face, watching the woman while he stabs the neighbor over and over.

“You’re not allowed to pick the movies anymore,” Clarke says, goosebumps rising on her arms at the man’s blank, cold stare.

When the neighbor stops screaming, the man lets her body slide down the glass and onto the floor. But still, he stares, tilting his head to the side while he watches the woman clean her kitchen. He raises a single finger and taps on the glass, but the woman doesn’t acknowledge him. He pounds his fist against the glass, expecting some kind of response, but still the woman doesn’t hear.

The woman finishes her cleaning and ignores another phone call, flipping the phone face down on the kitchen counter. Clarke glances down at her own phone for the hundredth time. She feels Raven and Octavia both look at her, and Clarke tries to make a point of not reaching for her phone.

The main character then sits down on her couch and picks up her laptop to continue writing when a phone call from her sister appears on the screen. Behind her, the girls can a sliding glass door slowly inch open and the masked man steps inside, unseen by the woman. She accepts the phone call from her sister, who signs back to her and explains that she wishes she wouldn’t live by herself anymore. The woman just shakes her head and laughs at her younger sister, insisting that she’s perfectly fine.

“Is someone there with you?” the woman’s sister asks, and her face expresses confusion as she says no. Her sister says she thought she had seen something move behind her, but the woman tells her it was only the cat. Then the screen cuts to a scene of a gloved hand retrieve the woman’s phone from the kitchen counter, and the man slips back outside.

“I hate these fucking movies,” Raven says. “If you live by yourself in the middle of nowhere, why wouldn’t you lock your fucking doors? You’re just asking for trouble.”

After the woman ends the call with her sister, she returns to writing her novel, which mostly consists of staring at the screen. Then a text message pops up in the corner of her screen – a text message sent from “Maddie’s Phone,” and Clarke realizes that the deaf woman’s name is Maddie. Maddie clicks on the text message and it opens a picture of herself, sitting on her couch with the laptop sitting on her lap.

“Now that would be creepy,” Clarke says as a second text message arrives and shows another picture of Maddie, but from a different angle. The panic is evident on the woman’s face, and she looks back at the sliding glass door, which is now wide open.

“Oh shit,” Octavia whispers. “Is he in the house?”

Maddie inches closer to the door, the music slowly growing louder and louder. Octavia reaches for Clarke and Clarke reaches for Raven and the three of them huddle together on the couch. When Maddie reaches the door, the masked man stands outside on the porch, staring back at her. He slowly raises his hand, revealing Maddie’s cell phone. Maddie reaches to pull the door shut at the same moment the man lunges. Octavia shuts her eyes, Clarke squeezes Raven’s thigh, and Raven starts yelling at the tv. But Maddie gets the door shut in time and the man stares at her with his cold eyes, separated only by a sheet of glass.

Then there are five hard knocks on the door, but Clarke doesn’t see either characters hand move. A minute passes and she hears the knocks again, and she looks at her friends.

“I think that’s the actual door, guys,” Octavia says, looking between Clarke and Raven.

“Oh,” Clarke says. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“It’s probably Bellamy,” Octavia says.

“Bellamy would just walk in,” Raven opposes.

And no one stands to go to the door. It’s not that the movie is particularly scary, but it made the three jumpy and neither of them was willing to open the door and be confronted by a man in a creepy mask. Another minute passes and the person on the other side of the door grows impatient and knocks for a third time.

“Oh my god, okay, I’ll go,” Clarke says, pushing Raven and Octavia off of her and climbing off the couch. Raven follows her from the couch, lingering a few steps behind until Clarke reaches the door.

“This is stupid, it’s just a damn movie,” she tells herself as she reaches for the handle. The person knocks again, louder this time, and Clarke jumps even though she feels stupid for it. Her nerves make her skin crawl and she can feel her heart racing even though she wills it not to. She extends a shaky hand and wraps her fingers around the doorknob, holds her breath, and pulls the door open.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Raven says, and turns around to return to the living room, simultaneously dragging and stomping her feet.

Clarke lets out a long, drawn out sigh as a smile creeps onto her face. Lexa stands in front of her, her hands held behind her back and even though she smiles back, there’s a shy expression on her face.

“Did I interrupt something?” she asks, observing Raven’s storm off.

Clarke just shakes her head and laughs, her nerves subsiding and feeling a lot less on edge. “No, we’re just watching one of those awful Netflix horror movies and you freaked us out.

“Oh, well I can come back later then if–“

“No,” Clarke says quickly. Too quickly. There’s that infamous Lexa Smirk again, and Clarke laughs at herself before stepping out onto the porch with the brunette. Lexa feels her breath hitch in her throat when Clarke steps into her space, her hands lacing with hers. Between Clarke’s proximity and the lingering hangover, Lexa feels light-headed. She squeezes Clarke’s hands to ground herself.

“So how much of last night’s phone call do you actually remember?” Clarke asks teasingly, a smirk of her own tugging at her lips. Lexa feels a wave of embarrassment wash over her and takes a deep breath to steady herself.

“Not very much,” she confesses, half laughing and half hiding her gaze from Clarke’s. Clarke doesn’t let her though; she releases one of Lexa’s hands and loops a finger under her chin. She leads her eyes to meet with her own, and Clarke sees the uncertainty circling in those shades of green.

“Lexa, it’s okay,” she says reassuringly, but Lexa doesn’t seem convinced. She still looks at Clarke like she’s waiting for her to bolt. “It was just a drunk phone call. It’s seriously not a big deal.”

“What did I say to you?” She asks, the words falling from her mouth before she can stop them. Deep down, she’s afraid that she said something to scare Clarke away or something that offended her. She’s afraid that Clarke’s mad that Anya had called her in the middle of the night. But when Clarke unlaces their hands and then replaces them on Lexa’s hips, Lexa begins to forget all about that fear.

“Honestly, you mostly apologized for Anya calling me, and then I tried to get you to go to bed. You were kind of argumentative, actually,” Clarke explains, her hands drifting from the front of Lexa’s hips around to her back, pulling herself closer. Lexa’s heart races when the smell of Clarke’s hair wafts into her face, and she places a hand on Clarke’s side. “Then when you finally went to bed, I could hear you struggle to get your pants off, and when I laughed at you, you told me to stop thinking about you naked.

Clarke didn’t expect the blood to rush to her face, but it does anyway. “But I told you I couldn’t make any promises.”

Clarke’s whole body is pressed against Lexa’s, and Lexa can feel every curve of it. Both of Clarke’s hands trace up Lexa’s sides and lock behind her neck, and Lexa’s hands instinctively grab at Clarke’s waist, and that’s all it takes. Lexa feels every ounce of worry, every ounce of fear, drain out of her. Clarke stares back at her with blue eyes that smile for her lips and Lexa feels silly for worrying.

Lexa can’t stop herself from smiling, and she can’t stop herself from kissing Clarke either, so when she presses her lips against Clarke’s, Clarke smiles into it as well. Clarke takes a step closer to the brunette, trying to bring them impossibly closer, and deepens the kiss. Clarke’s hand wanders from Lexa’s neck along her jawbone, down her neck, and rests on her collarbone. She can feel the flutter of Lexa’s heart beneath her fingertips, and she feels her own heart match pace.

Clarke pulls away just long enough to catch her breath before Lexa’s lips find hers again. The kiss is hungry and becomes increasingly desperate. Lexa can feel her heart and her mind colliding, one telling her she should stop and the other telling her to stop holding back. She’s not sure which one says which at this point, but she silences the forbidding voice and pushes against Clarke, leading her backwards until her back meets the open door frame. Lexa lets her tongue glide along Clarke’s bottom lip and then pulls it between her teeth. Clarke allows her hands to trace down Lexa’s front, brushing over the thin piece of fabric that separates skin from skin, and then squeezes Lexa’s hipbones.

Lexa pushes her hips against Clarke’s, pinning her to the wall, and Clarke’s hands sneak beneath the hem of Lexa’s t-shirt. Lexa’s skin is soft and hot, and Clarke has to remind herself that they’re still standing on the front porch to stop herself from pushing her hands upwards.

“Are you guys coming to watch this movie or– _Oh_ ,” Raven stops short just as she rounds the corner from the living room, her eyes finding two bodies trying to mold into one in the doorway. Lexa and Clarke pull apart, their faces both red with embarrassment and arousal. A smirk spreads across Raven’s face and she places her hands on her hips.

“Yeah, O, I don’t think Clarke and Lexa are too interested in the movie,” she calls over her shoulder, her eyes never leaving the two girls. Clarke and Lexa just stare back at her, their hands still lingering on each other’s hips, and Raven shakes her head at the two. “Come on, guys. At least bring it inside.”

Raven shakes her head one more time but the smile never leaves her face, and then she returns to the living room. A few seconds later, Clarke hears the noises from the movie continue.

“I think Raven is determined to ruin every kiss we have on your porch,” Lexa says with a chuckle, and Clarke laughs in return, leaning into Lexa and tucking her head into the curve of her neck. Lexa sighs at the feeling, wrapping her arms around the blonde and squeezing tightly. Clarke lets Lexa’s arms envelope her and has never felt more safe.

“Come on,” Clarke finally says after a few moments, pulling away from Lexa. Lexa’s arms hold close though, only letting her drift so far. The blonde only smiles when she feels the resistance, and presses a chaste kiss to Lexa’s lips. “Come watch the movie with us.”

Lexa nods and lets her arms slide away from Clarke, but Clarke doesn’t let the loss of contact last too long before she reaches for Lexa’s hand. It’s not a new thing at this point, but it still makes Lexa’s head spin and she’s reminded of the hangover from hell that won’t give up on this neverending headache. But when Clarke smiles at her and tugs her through the front door, Lexa forgets about it all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! The movie mentioned in this chapter is called Hush and you can find it on Netflix. I really do love reading your comments hearing your feedback, so please don't be shy! Constructive criticism is always welcome.
> 
> I start my rotation on Monday and also am moving into a new apartment, so things are about to get crazy hectic for me, but hopefully I'll still be able to post regularly. Please bear with me though! I'll try my best :)
> 
> Oh, and if you want to follow me on tumblr, my url is lexsa-heda.tumblr.com. New friends are always welcome :)


	8. Chapter 8

Clarke waits for Lexa to step inside and then closes the door behind her, Lexa’s hand brushing against her hip as she steps past her. She can feel her body move toward Lexa. She can still feel her skin on fire with arousal, begging for Lexa’s touch. They linger in the hallway, and Clarke wonders if maybe they should just bypass the movie and go straight upstairs. Lexa’s eyes lock on hers, and she considers it. God, does she consider it, because when Lexa reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together, Clarke swears that Raven and Octavia will forgive her.

But then that teasing smile displays on Lexa’s face, knowing full well all of the things going through Clarke’s mind right now, and then Lexa leads Clarke into the living room. Clarke exhales loudly, only encouraging Lexa’s smirk, and follows her.

Raven and Octavia have sprawled out on the big couch in front of the TV, both their legs stretched out to cover the surface of the couch. Clarke eyes them suspiciously, and they both try to suppress the grins that threaten to mark their faces. Clarke doesn’t say anything though, and takes a seat on the loveseat perpendicular to the couch. The loveseat sinks in the middle, a fact well known to Clarke and her friends, so when Lexa sits down, gravity pulls her toward the center of the cushion and both of the girls sink into the groove.

“Okay, can we continue now?” Octavia asks, her finger hovering over the play button on the remote. Clarke nods.

“Are you sure? You guys don’t want to go make out some more or anything? We can wait,” Raven teases, her eyes lit with pleasure at the opportunity to poke fun at the two girls. Octavia reaches for the pillow underneath her arm and flings it at the girl. The pillow connects with the side of Raven’s face with a thud.

“Ignore her,” Octavia says, looking at Lexa. “She thrives on making things as awkward as possible.” 

Raven fixes her hair back into a messy ponytail and shrugs, not denying the accusations. 

“However,” Octavia continues. “I’m not pausing this movie anymore.” Clarke had forgotten how seriously Octavia takes her movie watching. When she finally presses play, the room fills with that same silent noise from the movie, and all four girls fall quiet.

Clarke couldn’t tell what’s happening on the screen. She’s forgotten all about the deaf woman and the man with the creepy mask. She’s forgotten about pretty much everything except for the way Lexa’s leg presses against hers and the way she tucks her shoulder behind Lexa’s. Lexa’s hands are folded in her lap, picking at her nails, but her arm lines the length of Clarke’s torso and she can feel every movement of her fingers.

She shifts, trying to clear her mind of all things Lexa. She lifts her feet off the floor and tucks them underneath her Indian style. The position allows her distance from the brunette, but now her knee rests on top of Lexa’s thigh.

Lexa doesn’t bat an eye. She doesn’t think twice about unfolding her hands and placing one on top of Clarke’s leg, drawing intricate circles in the fabric of her sweatpants. Clarke knows her friends are watching even though their eyes are fixed on the screen, and she doesn’t miss the flicker on Raven’s face as it happens. 

But Lexa doesn’t seem to notice. She’s got her eyes trained on the movie, trying to catch up on what’s going on, and keeps drawing circles. Clarke doesn’t know why the moment feels so intimate or why it makes her feel so exposed. Octavia and Raven have seen her cuddled on the couch with people before. Hell, they’d seen her stick her tongue down a stranger’s throat on the dance floor and had seen just about everything between her and Finn.

This is different though, and Clarke tries not to think about it for now. She tries not to overanalyze or overthink and just let what happens happen. So when she leans into Lexa and lets her head rest against her shoulder, she doesn’t think about it. Lexa exhales and squeezes Clarke’s knee gently, and Clarke ignores the grins on Raven’s and Octavia’s faces.

\------

Raven and Octavia stop giving a shit about Clarke and her love life real quick as the movie progresses. The sun has begun to sink toward the horizon and the light in the room dwindles, casting shadows and only making the movie that much more real. The man with the mask torments the woman inside the house. He has her cell phone and he cuts the power, and she knows it’s only a matter of time before he finds a way inside and kills her.

The suspense has Clarke on edge. The movie is full of silent moments that end with loud noises that make her jump, and Lexa laughs until Clarke hits her arm. After it happens a third time, Clarke abandons shame and angles her body toward Lexa, tucking herself behind Lexa’s shoulder and using her as a human shield, but Lexa doesn’t mind. She hooks her hand behind Clarke’s knee and pulls her closer, and Raven fake gags from the opposite couch.

Finally Maddie has found a way to sneak outside without the murderer seeing her, and she dives underneath the porch. The room is silent except for Maddie’s breathing, and then they hear the sound of footsteps crunching in the leaves. Clarke tightens her grip on Lexa’s arm as she sees the masked man’s feet walking toward the porch. He does one sweep around the porch, never bothering to look underneath. Clarke feels every muscle in her body tighten, just waiting for the moment he finds her. Then the man ascends the stairs and walks across the porch, directly over Maddie. She pins a hand to her mouth to try to quiet her breathing, her eyes wide with panic.

The front door flies open.

“Who wants booze?!” Bellamy yells as he steps inside, pushing the front door open so hard that it bangs against the wall. Clarke’s muscles contract and she dives behind Lexa, who makes room behind her and throws a protective arm around the blonde. Raven screams the girliest scream that Clarke has ever heard come out of anyone’s mouth, and when the adrenaline wears off, she swears she’ll never let Raven forget it.

“BELLAMY!” Octavia yells, springing from the couch. Bellamy holds up two cases of beer at his sister, expecting her to be excited with the prospect of a party. But Octavia wastes no time laying her fists into the boy. “Don’t – do – that – ever – again!” She yells the words between punches, and Bellamy sets down one of the cases to defend himself.

“Hey, ow, OKAY!” The boy cowers. “Jesus, O, calm down.”

Clarke finally reappears from behind Lexa’s back and Lexa retracts her arm just as Octavia finishes her assault. She takes a step away from her brother and places a hand on her chest, her racing heart threatening to burst through the skin. She takes a deep breath, filling her lungs to max capacity, and that’s when she starts laughing, and then the other girls join her. Bellamy just stands there, watching the scene unfold and growing increasingly more confused.

“You guys are fucked up,” he mutters, and then picks up the second case of beer and moves toward the kitchen.

“I think we’re done with this movie,” Raven says, reaching for the remote and turning it off.

“Afraid you might scream like a two-year-old again?” Clarke asks.

“Listen, I was caught off guard, okay?” Raven says, trying to defend herself.

“We were all caught off guard. You’re the only one who screamed so high that only dogs can hear,” Octavia interjects before following Bellamy into the kitchen. Lexa and Clarke giggle from the loveseat. Raven stares at them, and her mouth opens to defend herself again, but she’s got nothing.

“I need a beer,” she says and then heads for the kitchen as well.

Clarke and Lexa are the only ones left in the living room, and Lexa wraps an arm around Clarke and pulls her into her space. Clarke happily obliges and tucks her head into the curve of Lexa’s neck and pulls her legs up underneath her. Lexa lets her hand sneak under the hem of Clarke’s shirt and brushes her thumb across the skin over her hipbone.

“I should probably leave soon,” Lexa whispers quietly, and Clarke hates the way she feels disappointed at the words. “Alcohol probably isn’t the best thing for me tonight.”

“You don’t have to drink,” Clarke responds. “You could just hang out and get to know my friends.”

Lexa can’t help but smile. “So we’re meeting each other’s friends already?”

“Well, you’ve pretty much already met all of mine,” Clarke says. “Raven and Octavia are the ones that matter most, and you’ve already won them over.”

Lexa looks down at the girl tucked inside her arm. She loves the way she fits there and the way her hand rests on her stomach, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She presses a kiss to the blonde’s lips and Clarke sighs into it, melting against Lexa’s body. Clarke’s hand traces from Lexa’s stomach over her chest and up to her neck, where she pulls Lexa deeper into the kiss.

“Your friends are here,” Lexa whispers, breaking their lips apart. Clarke looks up at her with her blue eyes and dilated pupils.

“I have a bedroom, you know,” Clarke points out, her hand sliding down to Lexa’s collarbone and tracing the length of it. Lexa has to stop herself from dragging the girl upstairs. She can hear the two sides of her colliding in her head again: one telling her to go home and one telling her to fuck the girl senseless. 

“Why’s the front door open?” Clarke hears the voice before she sees the person, but it makes her retract from Lexa. Lexa can’t help but exhale sharply in laughter. Getting interrupted by Clarke’s friends is becoming a common theme. When Finn walks around the corner of the hallway and enters the living room, he sees Clarke and Lexa wrapped up in each other on the touch. 

“Oh, sorry,” he says awkwardly, averting his eyes even though there’s no reason to. “Uh, the door was open, I just– yeah.”

Finn just walks away, searching for his other friends in the kitchen. Clarke sees a bottle of rum in his hand and she knows where this night is going to end up. She heaves a sigh, pulling away from Lexa entirely as she drags the breath out.

“Is everything okay?” Lexa asks, concern spreading across her features. Clarke looks at her, meets her gaze and sees that concern, and feels her stomach flip. 

“Finn and I used to date,” she says, sitting upright and turning to look at Lexa, trying to read her response. But Lexa’s face is stone and her eyes are the only things that move, darting back and forth between Clarke’s. A long moment passes between then. The nerves prick at Clarke’s skin and Lexa’s eyes keep searching.

“And he’s not over you,” she says finally, a statement not a question. Clarke nods once and the silence envelops them. The sun has almost completely sunk behind the horizon now, and the only light in the room comes from the light of the kitchen, spilling around the corner of the hallway. 

“We weren’t together long. Just a couple months and it was nothing like… Well, it was nothing,” Clarke explains, her eyes falling to her hands. “But I hurt him, and he’s still my friend. I do still care about him.”

The words sting a little bit and Lexa doesn’t know why. Logically, she understands what Clarke is talking about. She understands what Clarke is feeling and she even feels sorry for Finn. Lexa had been in a place very similar to Finn’s not so long ago, and she knows from experience that it is a terrible fucking place to be. But all of this stems from logic. She can’t explain why, but she doesn’t want Clarke anywhere near Finn. She doesn’t want Finn pining after her or watching her with longing looks or his sad puppy eyes. She wants to wrap Clarke in her arms and keep her all to herself.

“I understand, Clarke,” she says anyway, not sure how to interpret her feelings on such short notice. Clarke lifts her eyes back up to meet Lexa’s, but her expression hasn’t changed. She frowns, unsure, and nods even though she doesn’t want to.

“Are you still going to leave?” Clarke asks, and the vulnerability in her voice makes her look away again because the added eye contact would allow entirely too much vulnerability. Regardless, Lexa still feels it, and that vulnerability combined with Lexa’s urge to protect Clarke is too strong to resist.

“No,” Lexa says, shaking her head. “No, I can stay.” When the relieved smile spreads across Clarke’s face, Lexa smiles too and she feels her worries melt away again. Lexa knows that Finn is no threat, especially when Clarke leans back into her and wraps her arms around Lexa’s torso. She tucks her head underneath her chin and Lexa presses a kiss to her forehead that makes Clarke hum in appreciation.

“Hey, assholes!” Octavia yells as she enters the living room, a half empty beer in hand. “Let’s play pong!”

Clarke opens her mouth to speak, but Octavia cuts her off with the raise of a finger.

“Don’t even,” she says threateningly. “You owe me, Griffin.”

\------

More people file their way into the house over the next hour, but the party never reaches a level anywhere near that of the party a few nights ago. Jasper, Monty, and Harper are the next to arrive. When Lincoln arrives, Octavia actually squeals and runs to greet him, wrapping her legs around his waist when he lifts her feet from the ground. Clarke chances a look at Bellamy and she sees his jaw clench before he sips his beer.

Murphy arrives shortly after that, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Jack. He hoists it into the air when Bellamy sees him, and both the boys holler. Lexa audibly groans next to Clarke and Clarke laughs at the memory of an intoxicated Lexa. A few other friends from school arrive, and before Clarke knows it, all the seats in the house are occupied and the music fills the remainder of the room.

Octavia finds Lexa and Clarke in the kitchen conversing with Jasper, Monty, and Harper. Jasper has Lexa engaged in a conversation about something Clarke doesn’t understand and she just listens intently as she sips on a mixture of vodka and Gatorade. That is, until Octavia unapologetically wraps her fingers around a wrist of each girl and pulls them away.

“Clarke still owes me a game,” Octavia declares, dragging both girls behind her. “You two against Lincoln and me.”

Lexa glances over at Clarke, who smiles back at her and shrugs. Octavia doesn’t release them until they stand around the table, Lincoln already in place at one end. Octavia joins him and Lexa and Clarke take their position at the other end.

“Are you any good at this?” Clarke asks, her competitive side rising to the surface. Lexa raises an eyebrow at the blonde and then glances down the table at the other couple. Lincoln gulps at his beer, but Octavia watches them impatiently.

“Are we playing or what?” she asks, raising her hands in question. Lexa smiles and turns back to Clarke.

“I can hold my own,” is all she says before turning back to the table. She racks the red cups into their typical formation and Octavia does the same. Lincoln rolls a ball down the table and Clarke catches it. When everything is set up, Octavia takes the second ball from Lincoln.

“Shoot for turns,” she says, and Clarke offers her ball to Lexa. Lexa shakes her head and pushes it back into Clarke’s hand. Clarke can already feel the competitor coming out in here. If there is one thing in the world that Clarke Griffin is not, that is a humble competitor.

Octavia smirks, locking eyes with Clarke and Clarke knows there’s no going back now. The girls don’t look away from each other as they raise their arms and launch the balls down the table. They each make contact with their target cups, but both balls bounce of the rims and fall to the floor.

Octavia clenches her jaw. Clarke gulps her drink, determined. Lexa loves the edge in Clarke’s demeanor, and Lincoln wonders what the fuck he just got himself into.

Lincoln and Lexa take their turns next, both locking eyes from across the table. Lexa looks like she’s enjoying this too much for being completely sober, and Lincoln can already feel the effects of the alcohol. They both retract their arms and the ping pong balls soar from one side to the other. Lincoln’s hits the edge of a cup and misses. Lexa’s sinks into a cup in the second row.

“Lucky shot,” Octavia calls, but Clarke watches the expression on Lexa’s face and knows that it’s anything but luck.

“There’s still time to back out, Octavia,” Lexa taunts, and the muscles along Octavia’s jaw line flex in a way that Clarke has only seen when she gets angry at Bellamy. Her eyes dart back and forth between the two – Lexa standing boldly with her shoulders square, and Octavia bracing her hands against the edge of the table. A smile spreads across her face in a wicked sort of way.

“Not a chance,” Octavia responds, rolling the balls back down to Clarke and Lexa. “You start.”

\------

A crowd begins to gather around the table until finally every person in the house has crammed themselves into one room. Lexa can feel eyes on her and it only elevates her ego. Five cups remain on the table in front of her, while only two cups remain at the other end of the table. Octavia’s face has gone stone cold and Clarke wonders if her features will ever soften again after this game. Lincoln tries to put an arm around her shoulders, but she shrugs him off.

“You gonna throw the ball or what?” Octavia challenges, and Clarke lofts hers down the table. Miss. Octavia’s eyes fall on Lexa expectantly, raising her eyebrows. Lexa’s sure that the ferocity in the girl’s face is meant to intimidate her, but it only challenges her, and Lexa can’t refuse a challenge. The smug smirk hasn’t fallen from her lips since the game began, and Lexa sinks the ball into the one of the two remaining cups.

“Has she missed any at all?” she hears someone whisper behind her.

“Less than a handful,” another person responds. 

Lincoln removes the cup from the table so that only one lone cup remains. Octavia paces at the end of the table, acting like a champion title hangs on this game instead of just simple bragging rights. But when they take their turn, both of them succeed. But when Clarke and Lexa return the balls to them, Octavia makes a second and then Lincoln misses.

“So much for trying to win over my friends,” Clarke says under her breath, balancing a ball between her fingertips and taking a sip from her third drink. Her cheeks are rosy and her face is hot with the circulation of alcohol. The sight of her makes Lexa’s mouth dry and she almost reaches for the drink herself. Almost.

“Hey, she brought this on herself. I gave her the opportunity to back out,” Lexa responds, her lips curled into a wolfish smile. Clarke shakes her head at the girl, even though she’s secretly swooning.

“Is there anything you’re not good at?” Clarke asks, tossing her ball down the table, but misses the cup.

“No,” Lexa says smugly, her eyes growing darker when they fall on the blonde, and Clarke knows she’s not talking about drinking games anymore. Suddenly she’s grateful for the alcohol in her system because her cheeks couldn’t possibly get any redder. 

“Oh my god, either throw the ball or go fuck already,” Octavia calls from the other end of the table, and she doesn’t smile when she says it. Lexa has to pry her eyes away from Clarke. She looks across the table to Octavia and decides she’s put the girl through enough tonight. Barely even glancing at the cup, Lexa lofts the ball down the table.

Clarke swears everything stops as soon as the ball leaves Lexa’s lengthy fingers. Everyone’s eyes follow the ball like magnets. Everyone’s except for Lexa’s, though, because as soon as the ball leaves her touch, her eyes are back on Clarke. Octavia watches the little white ball soar toward her, and she knows it’s over. The ball sinks into the cup without even touching the rim.

Everyone cheers. People Lexa hardly knows clap her on the back and commend her for her impressive game. Octavia’s hard exterior finally cracks and she accepts the defeat – poorly of course, but accepts it nonetheless.

“I want a rematch sometime, Guitar Girl,” she says with a gleam in her eyes, and Lexa nods her approval. Octavia lets herself wrap into Lincoln’s arms and Lincoln looks relieved to have normal, non-competitive Octavia back. 

Monty and Jasper take up the space at the opposite end of the table, but Lexa denies the second game. Bellamy and Murphy trade places with Clarke and Lexa, and the two girls slip into the kitchen. 

“Clarke and Lexaaaaaa!” 

“I think Raven’s drunk,” Lexa says quietly to Clarke with a chuckle, and Clarke grimaces just a little.

“This isn’t just drunk Raven,” Clarke explains, glancing over at the girl. She’s seated at the kitchen table across from Finn, two shot glasses placed in front of them and a bottle of rum that’s more than half empty. “This is worse.”

Raven stumbles over to the two girls and places herself right between them, draping an arm around each of their shoulders. She’s all smiles but her breath reeks of captain and her legs fail to cooperate, leaving her as deadweight between Clarke and Lexa.

“Come drink with us,” she slurs, her eyes half open, but she still tries to pull the two girls over to the table. Clarke glances over to Finn, who hasn’t said a word and refuses to make eye contact with her. Lexa can already sense the tension that Raven’s created. 

“Come on, Rae. They don’t want to drink with us,” Finn calls. Lexa wants to punch him even though she can’t explain why. She wants to take Clarke out of here and spare her the trouble of having to deal with him. 

“Sure they do!” Raven finally maneuvers the girls over to the table and they don’t know what else to do, so they sit down. Clarke’s eyes keep tracing over the three of the people sitting around her, but Lexa watches Finn curiously. He’s not as drunk as he should be. When he finally meets eyes with Lexa, she doesn’t feel sorry for him anymore.

Lexa knows she should expect some kind of discomfort, maybe even some hostility, but it’s so much more than that circling in his dark brown eyes. Deep down she knows she shouldn’t blame him. Way deep down she knows that she should sympathize for him. But she can’t, and she reaches a hand across the space between her and Clarke and places it on her knee.

Finn notices. “Too good to drink with the rest of us?”

“Finn,” Clarke says warningly, but Lexa just squeezes her knee to let her know she’s okay. Clarke can feel the storm brewing between the two, unable to stop it. 

“Yeah, Lexa! Why aren’t you drinking?” Raven says, her words slurring into one another like a half-melted ice cream sundae. Clearly the tension in the room doesn’t affect the overly intoxicated.

Finn watches Lexa’s every move as she reaches for the shot glass sitting in front of Raven. When her nimble fingers wrap around the neck of the rum bottle, Finn’s blood pressure increases. Clarke wants to sink into the floor. Raven cheers as Lexa pours the rum all the way up to the rim.

She shoots the shot like a professional, tipping her head back and letting the liquid slide down her throat. She can feel her body reject the substance, still recovering from last night’s theatrics. Every hair on her body stands up and the warmth that spreads through her makes her stomach churn. But still, her face shows no evidence of it. She swallows the bitter after taste and slams the glass back down to the table. Finn watches her. The moments pass, and then he just nods.

\------

“The game is Two Bitch,” Finn says, shuffling a stack of cards in his hand. Clarke and Lexa are still seated, but Raven’s spread out face first on the table, breathing steadily with sleep. Bellamy, Murphy, Octavia, and Lincoln have joined them. Murphy even shares some Jack with Lexa, which she had been wary of at first. But after the first slip glided down her throat, she knew there was no going back.

“Call a suit,” Finn says to Lexa.

“Spades,” Lexa says coolly, one hand lingering at the edge of her glass of Jack and coke and the other lazily tracing over Clarke’s knee cap. 

Finn nods and starts dealing cards out around in a circle, one at a time, face up.

“Whoever gets the spade drinks the number on that card. Face cards are worth ten.” Four cards later and then Finn lays a seven of spades out in front of Bellamy. Bellamy shrugs and takes his seven drinks casually, and then pulls the bottle away from his lips. He goes to set the drink back on the table, but Finn stops him.

“You have to call another suit before you set your drink back down, or else you have to drink again,” he explains.

“This game is stupid,” Bellamy says with a roll of his eyes, but Finn still looks at him expectantly. “Clubs.”

Six cards later and a four of clubs comes up in front of Clarke. Clarke pours the liquor down her throat, and it burns and cools her at the same time. The room started spinning after her third and now everything seems to kind of just sway while staying in place. She’s just about to set her drink down, when Lexa squeezes her knee harsh.

“Oh, yeah. Um, hearts,” she says before setting her cup down. Her face is numb and she can feel the alcohol lowering the gates of her inhibition. Lexa’s hand on her knee isn’t helping. Finn keeps dealing to himself, Murphy, Bellamy, back to Lexa. A devilish grin placates his face.

“Looks like you’re the two bitch,” he says with a smirk, placing a two of spades in front of the girl. “Anytime someone drinks, you have to drink with them.”

Lexa shrugs and makes a face at the boy who looks way too pleased with himself. Two cards later, Finn deals himself a five of hearts and he and Lexa take five drinks. Finn calls a suit: diamonds. Six cards later, Murphy gets a jack of diamonds. That’s ten drinks for him and Lexa, and then it’s clubs again. When Clarke gets an eight of clubs and takes eight drinks with Lexa, Lexa finally understands the monstrosity that is two bitch.

“So, when does one stop being the two bitch?” Clarke asks, seeing the dazed look in Lexa’s eyes and noticing the sloppiness of her hand. 

“When someone else gets a two, that person becomes the two bitch,” Finn explains. He doesn’t know Lexa well enough to know that the alcohol’s affecting her, because she’s still got that masquerade expression on her face. So when the game continues and he sees that he’s about to deal the next two to Bellamy, he slips it behind another card and then slides it along to Lexa.

Had it not been for Finn and the infuriating way he looks at her, Lexa would’ve left the table about three rounds ago. She’d stopped counting her drinks when the numbers got into the double digits. Finn had “forgotten” to call a suit before setting his drink down after ten drinks his last turn, forcing him and Lexa to both drink again. 

“Maybe we should take a break,” Bellamy interjects a few turns later, after Lexa slams down the empty cup of her third Jack and coke, which Clarke notes is a lot more Jack than coke. Lexa has a dreamy kind of smile on her face and her cheeks are flush.

“No, somebody else has to get a two,” Lexa insists, determined to make it through this alive.

“That’s the spirit,” Finn encourages, flipping through cards one by one. Finally after three more turns, accounting for fourteen more drinks total, Finn deals a two to Murphy. That’s the first time that Lexa lets her face give her away that night, because the overwhelming relief spreads across her features like a tidal wave.

“Thank god,” she mutters, and everyone at the table chuckles, even Finn.

“I’ve got to hand it to you,” Finn finally offers. “That was some impressive two bitching.”

Finn almost smiles at her and Lexa almost feels like it’s sincere. She nods and then Finn looks down at the table. Lexa feels that sympathy flare up for just a moment before the intoxication reminds her that he’s had sex with Clarke, and then it vanishes.

“I think we’re done with this game,” Clarke announces, placing a hand on Lexa’s cheek and feeling the heat radiate from its surface. Lexa sighs and pushes into Clarke’s palm, her eyelids slipping over her eyes. The dizziness takes over and she can feel her stomach fighting to empty itself, but Clarke’s hand keeps her calm and grounded and it soothes her. She brushes her thumb over her cheek bone and Lexa nods.

“Smoke break?” Murphy asks, and Finn and Bellamy nod, leaving the girls at the table with a still sleeping Raven.

“Now really, how wasted are you?” Clarke asks, and even though she’s pretty drunk, she’s certain that Lexa is much worse off.

“I’m sleeping on your couch tonight,” Lexa responds, knowing that she’d never make it home behind the wheel of her car. Then she opens her eyes, and then her breath gets caught in her throat. If she had thought that Clarke’s eyes were mesmerizing before, they are absolutely transcendent now. She loses herself in them, buries herself in them with no intention of resurfacing. 

“Guys, come dance!” Octavia yells from the doorway, and that’s when Lexa hears the music for the first time. She hadn’t even noticed it during the game; she must’ve been too focused on holding her liquor. Clarke looks at her questioningly, her eyes scanning over every inch of her face. Lexa loves every second of the girl’s attention and how she only looks at her.

Lexa pushes herself out of the chair, her legs more steady than she thought they’d be. Clarke watches her warily, her blue eyes locked on her like ice frozen solid. Lexa just smiles though, extending a hand to the girl. “I want to dance with you.”

Clarke looks down at Lexa’s outstretched hand and then back up to her face. She can’t say no to the girl. She can’t deny the genuine smile or the redness in her cheeks, or the way she makes her heart race. And she doesn’t want to. So when Clarke accepts Lexa’s hands and pulls her along behind her, Clarke follows willingly.

\------

There are a lot more people in the house now than Clarke had thought. As the music pulsates around her, Clarke can feel more than just Lexa pushing up against her. The living room has almost reached max capacity at this point, and someone’s already shoved the coffee table out of the way to expand the dance floor. Clarke can’t hear anything except for the music, weaving in and out between her ribs and manipulating her body with its rhythm.

The music isn’t all that manipulates Clarke’s body though, because Lexa’s front is pressed against her back and her hands lock onto her waist. Clarke can feel Lexa in every part of her body and it makes the rest of the world seem far away. The people that dance around her feel like ghosts, passing aimlessly by. She can feel Lexa smiling into her hair and then she presses a soft kiss to the area behind her ear. 

Clarke spins her arms, unable to bear the lack of eye contact. She finds those green anchors and plants herself there. Her hands trace up Lexa’s sides and lock behind her neck, tangling her fingers into the curls of Lexa’s hair. She can feel the dampness in her hair from the sweat. The heat in the room is practically suffocating, but the alcohol discourages the effects of caring, and the crowd keeps dancing.

Lexa places her hands behind Clarke’s back, pulling her closer to her. She can’t get close enough. She wants to pull the blonde closer until there’s no space between them, not even an inch. Her fingers curl into the skin of her back, and Clarke savors the added pressure. Their bodies move as one as the music presses against them. The booze makes the edges of Lexa’s consciousness fuzzy, and all she can see clearly is Clarke smiling back at her.

The party continues into the late hours, people coming and going as the night progresses. Lexa dances off some of the excess drunkenness until she reaches a comfortable level of intoxication, and then she and Clarke drink to maintain that buzz. Raven finally emerges from the kitchen a while later, entirely sober and entirely confused. Clarke laughs at her and then shoves her drink in her face. Raven takes a sip and immediately grimaces when the vodka meets her lips.

“See? Rubbing alcohol,” Lexa points out, pressing her forehead to Clarke’s. Clarke just rolls her eyes and takes the drink back from the now sober girl, and takes a larger sip than necessary.

When people finally start to empty the house, Clarke and Lexa find a seat on the couch and Clarke pulls Lexa into the curve of her arm. A few people still loiter around the kitchen, and a beer pong game continues in the other room. Lexa exhales, the smell of Jack and Lexa’s shampoo flooding Clarke’s senses, and rests her head on Clarke’s chest. Clarke runs her fingers through the girl’s brunette hair and Lexa hums.

“Someone’s ready for bed,” Clarke coos at the girl, and Lexa nods against her chest. The sensation has Clarke’s breaths coming less steady and her bottom lip slips between her teeth.

“Come on,” Clarke says, leaning forward and disturbing Lexa’s comfortable position.

“Where are we going?” she wines, tangling her hand into Clarke’s shirt.

“Let’s go to bed,” Clarke returns. That has Lexa wide awake, and she turns her head to look up at Clarke. Blue eyes stare back at her innocently, red-rimmed and hazy with the influence of vodka and exhaustion. Lexa swallows thickly, and looks around the room. She considers arguing for the couch.

“Don’t even,” Clarke says, reading Lexa’s mind. “You’re not sleeping down here when I have a perfectly good bed upstairs.”

Lexa can feel her morals telling her to argue, telling her to sleep on the couch like an appropriate person would. They tell her she’s sober enough to drive home and sleep in her own cold bed. But the look in Clarke’s eyes has Lexa pushing her morals aside and making excuses in her head. Her heart starts fluttering before she even moves from the couch, but she pulls away from Clarke to make room for her to stand.

Clarke stands, leaving Lexa sitting on the couch with a dazed look on her face. Her head and her heart collide, the buzz only intensifying the quarrel.

“Are you coming?” Clarke says quietly, looking back at the brunette, and Lexa knows there’s no denying the blonde. There’s no turning away from her blue eyes and the prospect of waking up with her tangled in her arms. Lexa nods hastily and moves from the couch, tangling her hand with Clarke’s as they move toward the stairs together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One week of rotation complete! Two more to go. Thanks for being patient, guys. Feedback and comments always appreciated :)
> 
> PS; Two bitch ruins people's lives.
> 
> lexsa-heda.tumblr.com :)


	9. Chapter 9

When Lexa follows Clarke into her bedroom, her body stops working. Literally. She freezes at the doorway and stares helplessly at the blonde as she moves about the room. She can feel her heart racing beneath her sternum and her blood runs hot but she’s not sure if she should blame the alcohol or the predicament she’s gotten herself into.

Clarke doesn’t notice though. She moves into her room and heads straight for the closet, pulling her shirt over her head without thinking twice about Lexa’s gaze tracing over the curve of her back. Well, okay, maybe she had thought about it just a little and maybe that’s why she had done it. Lexa licks her lips without thinking about it.

Clarke discards her bra once she’s inside the closet, and then pulls a soft t-shirt on. The pants and underwear go next, and then she slides a warm pair of sweatpants over her hips. She returns to the bedroom after grabbing an extra pair of clothes for Lexa to sleep in, and then laughs when she sees Lexa still standing in the doorway.

“Are you a vampire? Do I have to invite you in?” Clarke teases, tossing the clothes on the bed and then crossing the room to the brunette. She presses her body against Lexa’s, vanquishing every inch of space between then. Lexa’s hands habitually grip Clarke’s hips and Clarke wraps her hands around Lexa’s neck. “Come on. We won’t do anything you don’t want to.”

Lexa exhales through her nose, a sign of laughter, and shakes her head. Clarke knows she’s nervous, but not exactly what she’s nervous about. Lexa can’t help but think about the neverending line of one-night stands that had started out the same way – a party and a lot of liquor. Then those nights would end the minute that the sun rose, and Lexa would sneak out before the sky turned blue. She didn’t want tonight to end up like that, but feared that if she had sex with Clarke, she would wake up in the morning feeling that same panic to get out of the house as fast as possible.

But god, then she thinks about touching Clarke in all the places she wants to touch her and her mouth goes dry.

“Lexa?” Clarke’s voice breaks her from her thoughts and she finds herself locked into those ocean blue eyes one more time. Lexa knows she should turn back down the stairs and glue herself to the couch. She knows she should be the strong one here and resist the temptation. She wants to be able to look back on the moment and remember doing the right thing. She wants to show Clarke that this isn’t just about sex. She wants more.

So when a smile crosses Lexa’s lips and she takes a step toward Clarke, she can feel the disappointment billowing up inside of her like the smokestack of a forest fire. But when her lips meet Clarke’s, it all disappears. Clarke smiles into the kiss, placing her hands along Lexa’s jawline and holding her there. Lexa can feel every inch of her urging her to lead Clarke to the bed, to bury herself in the blonde. But she breaks the kiss instead, pulling back just a little bit.

“Am I sleeping in my jeans tonight?” Lexa asks. Clarke takes the opportunity to glance down between their bodies, and a smirk tugs at her lips. She drags her hands from Lexa’s neck down her front, goosebumps following in their wake, until she reaches the top of Lexa’s jeans. She hooks a finger through a belt loop and pulls Lexa toward her.

“You don’t have to wear anything you don’t want to,” she says, her voice dropping so low that Lexa’s breath gets caught in her throat. Clarke chuckles at the flustered girl, the sly smile expanding across her face. “There’s a pair of clothes for you on the bed.”

Clarke presses her lips to Lexa’s cheek and Lexa leans into it, craving all kinds of contact from the blonde. When she pulls away, Clarke’s smug grin has Lexa shaking her head but smiling nonetheless. The two finally allow the space to come between them once again. Clarke heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth, but she can see Lexa in the mirror. She watches as the brunette picks up the t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. Clarke can already feel the nerves in her body become hypersensitive. Lexa pulls her arms inside her shirt and pulls it over her head.

Clarke knows she should look away. She wants to look away, but Lexa’s abs demand to be observed and the black lace bra hugging her breasts begs to be removed. The brunette unbuttons her jeans next and slides them down the length of her legs and then kicks them off. Clarke feels like the world’s biggest creep, but why stop now? 

Lexa reaches for the sweatpants and pulls them on first, and Clarke feels simultaneously grateful and disappointed about it. Then Lexa reaches for the t-shirt and slides both arms through the sleeves. When she goes to pull it over her head, she catches a glimpse of the blonde in the mirror.

Clarke pulls her eyes away faster than she thought possible, and that’s when she realizes that she’s been brushing the same section of her teeth for the past two minutes. Lexa can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up her throat; the bashful side of Clarke has always been so endearing. 

And that’s when Lexa says fuck it. That’s when Lexa looks down at the t-shirt covering her arms and then tosses it back on the bed, abandoning all sense of rationale along with it. That’s when all her resilience crumbles. That’s when Lexa stops thinking about all the things that could go wrong and thinks of all the things that could go so perfectly right.

Clarke’s been brushing her teeth so long that she’s pretty sure her gums have started bleeding. She’s got her attention so focused on the water circling down the drain that she doesn’t even notice Lexa walk up behind her until she feels her hands on her hips. Lexa pulls the blonde into her and tucks her chin into the curve of her neck. When she breathes in, Clarke is everywhere.

Clarke feels her lungs forget how to function. Lexa’s body melts against her own, hugging every curve. The brunette’s breath on her neck reminds the blonde to breathe and she inhales harshly. The sharp intake withdraws as much oxygen as possible, taking the minty remnants of toothpaste down her throat. Lexa smirks, her lips curling against the girl’s neck.

“Are you done yet?” she questions, voice low and provocative, her lips dangerously close to Clarke’s ear. Clarke can feel every inch of Lexa’s front, and the combination of that sensation mixed with the alcohol has the blonde completely uprooted. She forces herself to spit out the remaining toothpaste before she chokes on it, noting how incredibly not sexy that must seem.

Lexa doesn’t seem to think so, however. She removes her hands from Clarke’s waist and reaches for the countertop, pinning Clarke against it and trapping her with her arms. Clarke feels like she’s drunk for the first time all over again. Lexa’s body envelops her entirely, and the effect is absolutely inebriating. 

When Clarke looks up in the mirror, the effect only intensifies. Lexa grins back at her from behind her shoulder, her green eyes smoldering back at Clarke’s blue ones. Clarke needs those eyes. A reflection simply won’t do, and she turns in Lexa’s arms until they’re face to face. 

That’s when she realizes that Lexa isn’t wearing a shirt. Her mind goes completely void of anything that doesn’t have to do with the black bra caressing the girl’s breasts or the way her skin stretches tight over her defined abs. Lexa watches the girl struggle for words, and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that she enjoyed watching it happen. 

“How drunk are you?” Clarke questions finally, placing her hands on the strong biceps caging her in. Lexa braces against the counter and Clarke can feel her muscles flex.

“Entirely sober,” Lexa responds with a smirk, words absent of any slurring, but Clarke isn’t convinced that the alcohol has worn off entirely.

Not that she cares.

Clarke slides her hands up Lexa’s arms until they lock behind her neck, and then she pulls the brunette to her. Their lips collide and everything about them is hungry and desperate. Lexa pushes into Clarke, leading her backwards until she hits the edge of the sink. The smallest moan erupts from her chest, but Clarke doesn’t apologize for it, and that only makes Lexa grind her hips harder into the blonde.

The brunette pulls her lips away and trails kisses down Clarke’s jawline and lands on her neck. Clarke tangles a hand into the girl’s hair and Lexa’s hands take place on Clarke’s body again. She wastes no time dropping her hands to Clarke’s ass and then her thighs, gripping them before lifting the girl onto the counter.

“You’re getting me wet,” Clarke says, her voice hot and breathless. The words hit Lexa between her legs and she bites down on the skin of Clarke’s neck. Clarke lets another moan escape her throat, but then she presses a hand to Lexa’s chest and pushes her away, and Lexa tries not to look hurt when she jumps back. Clarke sees it though, and immediately reaches for the girl’s hand.

“No, Lexa. The counter is soaked,” Clarke explains, sliding back onto her feet. When she turns around, Lexa sees the darkened area of her sweats where she’d sat in the water. Lexa can’t help but laugh before she places her hands on Clarke’s hips.

“Maybe you should’ve focused more on brushing your teeth instead of watching me undress,” Lexa teases, tucking a strand of hair behind Clarke’s ear. 

“I make no apologies,” Clarke responds with a shrug, quirking her eyebrow at Lexa before a smile spreads across her face. Lexa smiles back at her, all teeth and eyes full of hearts. She loves that Clarke, the girl whose face turns red when her friends tease her and the girl who hides behind Lexa during scary movies, shows no reservations when it comes to sex.

“Good,” Lexa says, hooking her fingers over the top of Clarke’s wet pants. “I think you’re going to need something dry to sleep in.” Lexa’s voice drops an octave, her lips inching closer to Clarke’s ear and her fingers slowly pushing the waist of her pants over her hips. Their eyes meet, Lexa’s hands testing their boundaries, wondering if there are any.

“Yes, yes I do,” Clarke says, a teasing smile on her lips. She rips herself away from the brunette, trailing her fingertips across Lexa’s stomach as she steps past her and back into her closet.

Lexa exhales sharply, her arousal sorely disappointed at the loss of contact. Everything seems a lot less intoxicating without Clarke tucked inside her arms. The blonde closes the door behind her when she enters the closet, and Lexa laughs at the irony. Standing alone in the bathroom, she becomes undeniably aware of the fact that she’s shirtless and Clarke and her friends don’t keep the house very warm.

She retreats to the bedroom and doesn’t hesitate to crawl under the covers. She wraps them tight around her body and everything smells like Clarke and she decides she would stay here forever if she could. The thought causes a ripple of anxiety to cross her mind though, because there’s that voice again – the one telling her this isn’t safe, that she’s opening herself up to get hurt again.

Lexa quickly silences the voice though when Clarke reemerges from the closet, wearing a new, dry pair of navy sweatpants. The blonde doesn’t make eye contact with Lexa, but Lexa’s sure she can see her watching her from the corner of her eye. Clarke crosses the room and flips the light switch, catapulting the room into darkness.

The loss of visual heightens Lexa’s senses; she can hear Clarke’s footsteps, feel the bed dip when she slides in between the blankets, and then there’s that scent that Lexa has grown so fond of. Clarke cuddles up to Lexa and the brunette extends an arm so that she can fold Clarke against her chest. 

“I’m glad you stayed,” Clarke says quietly as she releases a contented sigh. She places a hand on Lexa’s stomach and starts drawing sporadic circles into the girl’s skin. Lexa feels her heart swell with affection and she holds her closer as she presses a kiss to the girl’s head.

“I’m glad too,” Lexa responds, dropping her hand to Clarke’s hip and snaking underneath her shirt to touch the skin there. Clarke tosses a leg over Lexa’s hip and tangles it between Lexa’s, bringing them even closer. A few days ago, Lexa never would have guessed that she would end up here. She never would have expected to happen upon someone who flipped her entire world upside down, but she did, and she enjoyed every second of the rollercoaster.

“Kiss me,” Clarke says, angling her face up and placing a gentle touch to Lexa’s cheek. Lexa is happy to cooperate, and moves downward to meet her lips with Clarke’s. That same heat and arousal fires up in both of the girls, kissing each other with fervor. Clarke’s hand digs into the skin of Lexa’s abs, feeling the tight muscles flex underneath. Lexa starts to push herself up on her elbows to give herself some leverage, but Clarke feels this and wastes no time shifting her body on top of the brunette’s, pinning her to the bed.

Lexa isn’t used to letting someone else have the upper hand, but Clarke straddles her hips before she has time to refuse, and fuck, she doesn’t want to. The weight of Clarke on top of her ignites a whole new kind of arousal and Clarke can feel the girl fighting to regain control underneath her. She smirks into Lexa’s lips before dragging herself downwards, trailing kisses over her neck and then her collarbone, biting down every now and then. Lexa tangles her hands in the blonde waves that fall over her chest, holding the blonde there even though she has no intentions of pulling away.

“I want this off,” Clarke says as her lips reach the edge of Lexa’s bra, barricading the smooth skin of Lexa’s breasts underneath. Lexa hesitates for just a second, before she reminds herself that she’s not thinking tonight, and then she arches her back and Clarke slides her hand underneath her. It takes all of two seconds for Clarke to undo the hook of Lexa’s bra and then the fabric goes slack around her. She lifts her arms and Clarke unthreads the material from Lexa’s arms, tossing it carelessly to the floor.

Lexa can’t stop the moan that falls from her lips when Clarke takes one nipple into her mouth and then pinches the other between her thumb and forefinger. 

“Fuck, Clarke,” she says breathlessly, her hips pushing up against Clarke, not looking for friction but rebelling against their current position. She tries to dislodge the girl and flip her over, but Clarke pins her with her hips and wraps her fingers around Lexa’s wrists, holding them tight against the mattress.

“Behave,” she says tauntingly, smirking against the sensitive skin of Lexa’s breast. Lexa bites down on her lip, willing her body to remain still even though every nerve is telling her to ravish the girl without a second thought. As if reading her mind, Clarke slips a thigh between Lexa’s legs and pushes it against her center. Lexa whimpers, reaching for Clarke’s hands wrapped around her wrists. Clarke understands and laces their fingers together tightly, still holding them strong against the sheets. 

Every rock of Clarke’s hips sends a rush of pleasure through Lexa’s body, and then Clarke’s tongue circles her nipple and Lexa wonders how long she can take this.

“Take my pants off,” Lexa orders. If she can’t have the upper hand, she can at least try to have some sort of sway over the situation. Fortunately Clarke has no objections and slides her body down over Lexa’s, trailing kisses over her abdomen and lingering over the line of her sweatpants. Lexa feels her hips jolt forward against her will, causing that grin to spread across Clarke’s perfect face again before she slips her fingers into Lexa’s pants.

It takes no time at all for Clarke to pull the sweats from Lexa’s legs, exposing the length of Lexa’s toned legs. Lexa lays out in front of her in nothing but a pair of underwear, and Clarke can’t help but stare. Lexa relishes the moment because she knows exactly what kind of effect her body can have on a girl. Confidence in her body is the one thing that she’s always had. Seeing Clarke stare at her with wide, hungry eyes has her reaching for the girl, pulling her back down to her.

“Jesus, Lexa. You’re so beautiful,” Clarke says between kisses.

“I want to fuck you,” Lexa says between heavy breaths, her hands trailing down Clarke’s front. When she reaches the hem of her shirt, she pushes it upwards until it bunches under Clarke’s arms. Lexa gives it another tug and Clarke lifts her arms, allowing Lexa to pull the garment over her head. The brunette has to restrain herself from flipping the girl over right then and there and taking her without a second thought. Clarke’s exposed breasts are right in front of her, pale and soft, her nipples hard with arousal. Clarke grinds down into her core at that moment, and Lexa moans so loud that it makes her cheeks flush.

It’s music to Clarke’s ears and Clarke makes it her personal mission to hear Lexa make that noise as many times as possible tonight. The blonde leans back down over the brunette, bringing their lips together. Lexa can feel the skin of Clarke’s breasts against her own and brings her hands up behind Clarke’s back, dragging her nails into the skin. Clarke bites down on Lexa’s lip in response, her thigh pushing hard into Lexa’s core. 

Clarke starts rocking her hips, setting a steady pace that Lexa settles into with her. Blonde hair covers her face and Lexa pushes it away, tangling her hands into it and pulling just a little. Clarke groans and moves her lips down to Lexa’s ear, her breath hot and fast, and fuck, it drives Lexa crazy.

Clarke doesn’t even realize what’s happened until she’s flat on her back and Lexa is on top of her, her whole body pressed against the girl as her hands explore the curves of her body. Lexa can feel her body acting on its own. She slips a thigh between Clarke’s legs and her hips start rolling into the blonde. Clarke props her leg up between Lexa’s thighs, and when she grinds down on it, Lexa knows there’s no going back.

“You’re okay with this, right?” Lexa whispers, barely pulling her lips away from Clarke’s. She almost doesn’t want to ask for fear that Clarke will want to stop, but she does anyway. Clarke pulls back and gazes back at the girl, her hand lifting to trace the lines of her cheek. Their eyes meet in the darkness, chests heaving and panting, skin hot and sticky with sweat. 

“I’m more than okay with this,” Clarke responds, cupping Lexa’s cheek and pulling her back down. The kiss is soft at first, reassuring, comforting, and then Clarke’s tongue traces Lexa’s bottom lip. Lexa leans to one side and props herself on her elbow, snaking her free hand over Clarke’s body. She can feel Clarke shiver where she touches and Clarke can feel Lexa smirk against her lips. “I’m not okay with you teasing me though.”

“I would never,” Lexa says, but the tone of her voice is anything but sincere. Her lips break from Clarke’s, trailing kisses down her neck and collarbone until she lands on her target. Clarke pushes up into Lexa’s mouth as her lips close around a nipple and her free hand drifts farther down. A lithe finger inches along the top of her pants, so soft that Clarke’s not even sure it’s actually there until Lexa reaches inside her sweats.

“No underwear, Clarke?” Lexa says, pressing a kiss to the space between Clarke’s breasts. Clarke’s only response is a soft whimper as Lexa’s hand ghosts over her hips, pubic bone, thighs – basically over everything that doesn’t matter. 

“Fuck, Lexa,” she hisses, closing her thighs around Lexa’s hand and trapping it there. Lexa can’t stop the grin that spreads across her face and places an open mouthed kiss to Clarke’s chest before surrendering. When Clarke releases her hand, Lexa puts it exactly where Clarke wants her. Her fingers slip through wet folds, tantalizingly slow. Lexa takes her time feeling every part of the girl, and when she presses her thumb against Clarke’s clit, Lexa almost comes undone just at the way Clarke’s body jolts underneath her.

“I want to see you.” Lexa doesn’t wait for Clarke to respond before pulling her hand out of Clarke’s sweatpants, but she doesn’t miss the pout on Clarke’s lips. Lexa kisses them chastely before lowering herself to pull off Clarke’s sweats. The blonde lies out before her, completely exposed, and Lexa can feel her heart pounding. She places sloppy kisses along her thighs, inching closer and closer to Clarke’s center, but never reaching it.

Lexa trails her lips back up Clarke’s body until they land on her lips again and her fingers slide through soaked folds before tracing circles around her clit. Clarke’s hips careen up into Lexa’s hand, seeking friction, seeking literally anything. It fuels Lexa and she pushes her weight down on Clarke, her thigh pushing her hand harder against her clit. The blonde whimpers, breaking her lips from Lexa’s.

Lexa slips her hand further down, sliding through Clarke’s wetness until they linger at her entrance. She looks down at Clarke, silently waiting for permission. When Clarke nods just once, Lexa slips a finger inside. Clarke grips at Lexa’s shoulders as Lexa pushes, feeling all the most intimate parts of Clarke. Lexa moans at the sensation, and when she pulls back out, she inserts another finger.

“Oh my god,” Clarke pants, her fingernails digging into Lexa’s back. Lexa sets into a steady rhythm, rocking her hips into the blonde and Clarke returning desperately. Clarke thoughtfully raises her leg and it hits Lexa right against her clit and it only encourages the brunette.

Clarke’s hands roam over every inch of Lexa’s body, tracing down her back and falling on her hips, sliding underneath her underwear and gripping her ass. Then they travel north and palm Lexa’s breasts, and Lexa grinds hard into Clarke’s thigh. Both the girls are a mess of short, heavy breaths and desperate hands. Lexa can feel Clarke’s walls tensing around her, her body becoming more and more stiff. She curls her fingers and Clarke moans in the most delicious way, digging her nails into Lexa’s skin.

Clarke falls apart around Lexa’s fingers, her body tensing and shaking beneath her. Lexa guides her through it and comes apart on top of her, their bodies riding out the waves of the orgasm together until Lexa removes her fingers. Clarke brings her hands up to Lexa’s face and pulls her lips to hers, kissing her slowly and with meaning.

“That was…” Clarke trails off, not knowing what words are or how to form them. She just closes her eyes and exhales, and Lexa smirks.

“Magic fingers, remember?” Lexa asks, and Clarke can’t help but laugh at the dorky smile on the girl’s face. She wraps her arms around Lexa’s shoulders and pulls her down on top of her, her whole body draped over her like a heavy blanket, and Clarke holds her tight against her chest.

The alcohol has completely worn off both of the girls at this point, their bodies exhausted and dehydrated from the combination of liquor and sex. The warmth of Clarke’s body underneath her and her arms wrapped around her makes Lexa feel safe and cozy, like being wrapped in a bath towel fresh out of the dryer. She breathes deep and presses a kiss to the skin at the base of Clarke’s neck. Before they know it, they’re both drifting off to sleep.

\------

Lexa wakes up in the morning to the sunlight pouring into the room and the sound of a chatty bird somewhere close by. The sunlight hurts her eyes and she forces them shut again, burying her face into the pillow. When she breathes in, the smell of Clarke’s conditioner floods her senses, and that’s when she remembers where she is.

She reaches an arm out, but finds only an empty side of the bed. Her heart sinks and she doesn’t know why, and she has to force herself not to think of all the times she’d made some other girl feel that way when she’d snuck out before dawn. Lexa waits for the panic to hit her, for the anxiety to catapult her out of bed and straight for home. 

But it never comes.

She lies in Clarke’s bed, wrapped in Clarke’s blankets, and all she can feel is the extreme disappointment in Clarke’s absence. The one time she had stepped out on a limb and gone for something more than sex, and here she sits alone in a cold bed. Lexa can feel the regret bubbling up inside her mixed with anger, and she pulls the blanket up over her head, trying to block those feelings out.

“Hey, don’t do that,” a voice calls and it makes Lexa jump so hard that she tears the blankets away from her face. The sunlight assaults her and she’s blinded for a moment. When her eyes finally adjust, she sits up in bed and that’s when she sees Clarke sitting in a chair at the foot of her bed. Her hair is a mess and she’s got an over-sized t-shirt on, but still no pants, and a blanket hangs around her shoulders. She has her feet propped up on the end of the bed and a sketchbook rests against her thighs.

“What are you doing?” Lexa questions, the relief washing over her without remorse. Clarke shrugs, a coffee mug in one hand and a pencil in the other.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” she responds.

“But what’s that?” Lexa asks, motioning toward the sketchpad.

“Oh, I was just drawing. It’s just a hobby, nothing spectacular.”

“Drawing me?” Clarke just nods in response, and Lexa can sense the insecurity creeping into her body. “Let me see.”

“What? God, no,” Clarke says, standing from the chair and walking over to her desk. She sets the coffee mug down and then leans against it, looking back at Lexa.

“Clarke, please?” Lexa begs, her voice soft and sweet and the vocal equivalent of a puppy dog face.

“It’s just a sketch,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes.

“I don’t care,” Lexa retorts, crawling to the edge of the bed closest to Clarke. The blankets fall away from her and Clarke remembers that she’s only wearing her underwear. “I want to see it.”

“I’m known for my stubbornness, you know,” Clarke says matter-of-factly, but truthfully it’s crumbling. Lexa sits on the edge of her bed, sitting on her knees with her legs tucked underneath her, almost completely naked, and Clarke wants to give the girl everything she could ever ask for. But her art… That’s something she’s never shared with anybody.

“Fine,” Lexa says, bending over and retrieving her borrowed t-shirt from the floor. “You don’t get to see me naked unless you show me.”

Lexa doesn’t even get one arm through a sleeve before Clarke grabs the shirt from her hands and sits down on the bed next to her. Lexa smiles victoriously, moving to sit behind Clarke. She extends a leg out and pulls Clarke back into her body, resting her head on Clarke’s shoulder. The sketchpad rests in Clarke’s lap, the drawing face down.

“Please let me see,” she whispers against her shoulder, pressing a kiss against the patch of skin that’s revealed. Clarke sighs and flips the pad over, and if Lexa hadn’t had her chin placed on Clarke’s shoulder, her jaw would have dropped.

Drawn in pencil, a sketched version of Lexa sleeps soundly in Clarke’s bed, the blankets sprawled around her waist. Clarke captures every detail of Lexa’s body, from her jawline to her breasts to the way her fingers curl around her pillow. Lexa just stares at the drawing, her eyes tracing over every deliberate pencil stroke.

Clarke shifts uncomfortably beside her, her nerves getting the best of her, and Lexa wraps her arms around her waist. 

“Clarke,” she says, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving the drawing. “You are incredible.”

“It’s just something I do in my spare time,” she says with a shrug, and Lexa shakes her head again.

“You’re an artist,” Lexa says, pulling back to look at Clarke. Clarke meets her gaze and they both get lost in shades of blue and green. “I have never looked as beautiful as I do in that drawing.”

Clarke shakes her head this time, finally letting a smile creep onto her face and a breath falls from her lips. “I beg to differ.”

And when Clarke presses her lips against Lexa’s, it’s slow and affectionate. It’s gentle and fragile, and Lexa feels like she can’t breathe or else she might ruin it. When it ends, she feels light-headed and rests her forehead against Clarke’s. 

“I want to know everything about you, Clarke Griffin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while since the last update, but life has been so crazy lately! But I've only got one more week of rotation and I'm finally all moved into my new apartment, so things should settle down here soon! As always, critiques and feedback are welcome and encouraged :)
> 
> Also, I realize that this story is moving pretty slow. It's a slow burn, but I promise it's going to pick up soon. Thanks for sticking with me so far :)
> 
> lexsa-heda.tumblr.com


	10. Chapter 10

“WAKE UP, RAVEN!”

“I swear, I will fucking end you,” Raven groans from the couch, face down, her head buried underneath a pillow. Clarke laughs and sits down on the couch beside Raven’s sprawled out body, placing a hand on her back.

“Someone’s a little hung over, huh?” Clarke says teasingly, glancing back up at Lexa who lingers nearby. Lexa chuckles and shakes her head.

“Go away,” Raven groans again, not bothering to move.

“Awww, Raven,” Clarke coos mockingly. “You know, I’m disappointed in you. You’re really slipping.”

“Clarke,” Raven growls warningly.

“I mean, you used to drink me under the table, and now look at you.” Clarke shakes her head and clicks her tongue. “Shame.”

“I need you to stop talking,” Raven says, reaching for the pillow and pulling it tighter against her head, trying to block her out.

“Don’t be mean, Clarke,” Lexa says as she leans against the doorway, folding her arms across her chest. Raven finally lifts her head from her cocoon of pillows and squints up at Lexa, and then looks back at Clarke sitting near her hip.

“Lexa’s a smart girl. Listen to Lexa,” she says, and then plops her head back into the corner of the couch and pulls the pillow back over her ears. Clarke laughs and pats the girl on the back before leaving her to her hangover.

“Coffee?” Clarke asks as she walks back over to Lexa. She nods and follows Clarke into the kitchen. Beer bottles and plastic cups cover every available surface, an empty bottle of rum still sitting at the kitchen table. Lexa feels her stomach churn with the remnants of alcohol, but she feels better than she thought she would and calls it a win.

Clarke pulls a mug from a cabinet and then fills it with coffee before handing it to Lexa. “There’s sugar and creamer if you want it,” she offers, and Lexa just smiles before lifting the mug to her lips. “Of course you like it black.”

The warmth and bitterness makes her insides buzz, and she starts to feel human again. Clarke refills her own mug and then tops it off with vanilla creamer and two packets of sugar, and then takes a seat at the table. Lexa follows and takes a seat next to the blonde. When she watches her take a sip of her coffee, she shakes her head and laughs.

“Just watching you drink that makes my teeth hurt,” she says. Clarke just shrugs her shoulders.

“How else do you think I got so sweet?” She smirks playfully, taking another long sip of the sugared down coffee. “Do you have plans today?”

“Work.”

“Oh, what time?”

Lexa glances at the clock on the stove. “11 to 7. I should probably get going, actually.”

Clarke nods and doesn’t allow herself to feel disappointed. She would keep Lexa here all day if she could, keep her wrapped in her arms up in her bed while she traced over the ink embedded in her skin.

Lexa reaches across the table and laces her fingers with Clarke’s, and she doesn’t say anything but she smiles and Clarke smiles back. “Maybe we can make plans for later?” The lilt in her voice indicates the question in her statement, reveals the insecurity that she’s been trying to suppress. Clarke squeezes her hand reassuringly and nods, and Lexa visibly lets out the breath she held in her lungs.

When they finish their coffee, Clarke places both the mugs in the sink and then follows Lexa reluctantly to the front door. She doesn’t want the brunette to leave, and she knows how silly and childish that seems. They’ve only known each other a couple days. One night of sex doesn’t mean anything. But still, she craves Lexa’s presence and isn’t ready to let it go.

“Have a good day, Clarke,” Lexa says as she reaches the front door.

“You too,” Clarke responds before leaning forward to place a kiss on Lexa’s cheek. When she goes to pull away, Lexa reaches for her waist and pulls her back, smiling before kissing her on the lips. When they break apart, Lexa cups Clarke’s cheek and strokes her thumb across the soft skin.

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Clarke nods and then Lexa pulls the front door open and then pulls it shut behind her. Clarke stands alone in the hallway, all of the events from the day before playing over and over in high speed.

“Was that Lexa just leaving?” Clarke turns to see Octavia walking down the stairs, Lincoln close behind her. Clarke nods and then goes back to the living room while Octavia kisses Lincoln goodbye before he leaves.

“What the hell happened last night?” Octavia asks, sitting next to Clarke on the loveseat in the living room. Clarke chuckles and shakes her head.

“You know, I don’t really know,” she responds, thinking back to the previous night and the sequence of events.

“Is Rae alive?” Octavia glances at the body of her sassy friend, unmoving except for the gentle rise and fall of her back.

“Barely.”

“So did you and Lexa…?”

“Yeah. You and Lincoln?"

“Yep.”

“Regrets?”

“None. You?”

Clarke pauses for a second, considering the repercussions of their night together for the first time. Clarke knows that what happens next is critical to where their relationship goes next. Lexa may never text or call her again. Clarke may have just been the latest booty call on Lexa’s list of women. Or Lexa could turn into one of those crazy, clingy, stalker girls. Highly unlikely, of course, but still possible. Either way, Clarke doesn’t know Lexa very well, but she knows enough to know that she guards herself carefully. She may very easily feel some regret toward letting her walls down so willingly with Clarke.

Nonetheless, Clarke wouldn’t take it back for anything, and she shakes her head in response. “Not at all.”

Clarke and Octavia smile warmly at each other, both their hearts quietly swelling with the memories of the night before. They settle into the couch together, sitting silently and thinking to themselves.

“Was he good?” Clarke finally breaks the silence.

“I came three times, Clarke,” Octavia gushes, her eyes sparkling deviously. The blonde laughs at loud and Octavia joins her.

“What about Lexa?”

“You know how I said she’s really good at guitar and really good at ice skating?” Clarke asks, and Octavia nods. “Well, she’s way better at sex.”

“How is this fair?” a voice interjects from the opposite couch, and Raven lifts her head from the couch to glance back at her friends. Her hair hangs sloppily in her face and her eyes are rimmed with red. “You two get laid, and I just get hungover.”

“That’s what happens when you take shots with Finn,” Clarke clarifies, reaching for the remote on the coffee table.

“I was just trying to keep him distracted,” Raven groans, rolling over to lie on her back. “He walked into the kitchen after he saw you and Lexa and I thought it would help get his mind off it.”

“Dragging Clarke and Lexa into the kitchen to do shots with the two of you probably didn’t help with that,” Octavia adds, and Raven groans before rubbing her temples.

“It’s the thought that counts, right?”

 

\------

 

Lexa had expected the anxiety to settle in when she woke up in the morning. She had anticipated that overwhelming urge to escape the unfamiliar bed and return back to her own bed, to her daily routine. When she had woken up in Clarke’s bed this morning and hadn’t felt that overpowering compulsion, she thought she’d gotten lucky. She thought maybe it meant she had done the right thing.

But as soon as the door shuts behind her and she finds herself standing on Clarke’s front porch alone, the panic catches her off guard and she feels her brain kick into overtime. That voice she had been trying to silence for the last few days finally reprimands her full force, reminding her how reckless and careless she had been, reminding her of the devastating effects this kind of thing could have on her.

Lexa shakes her head, trying to unbalance that voice in her head, but she knows she can’t escape it. So she does the only thing she can do and walks to her blue car parked by the curb, climbs inside and turns the music up as loud as it will go, and then drives away.

While she drives home, Lexa busies her mind by focusing on everything that’s not the voice in her head telling her that she fucked up. She focuses on the traffic lights and the cars around her, on the position of her hands on the steering wheel, and the chord progression of the song blaring through the speakers. It calms her. It keeps her grounded and keeps her thoughts from wandering.

When her thoughts do wander, it dawns on her that she had never let Anya know where she was last night or that she wouldn’t be coming home.

“Fuck,” she whispers, reaching for her cell phone in the cup holder. Except that her cell phone isn’t in the cup holder, where she usually puts it when she gets in the car. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she says more loudly, searching the pockets of her jeans and her jacket before she concludes that her phone is nowhere to be found.

 _“How are you going to talk to Clarke?”_ The disappointment rolls over her at the realization, but that disappointment quickly subsides for that voice telling her that she shouldn’t talk to Clarke anyway. Lexa’s jaw clenches, the muscles in her neck flexing beneath her skin. She glances at the clock and knows there’s no time to go back for the phone. She’ll just have to get it after work.

When she pulls into the parking lot of her apartment building, Lexa has approximately twenty minutes to get ready for work and make herself look like a human being again. Piece of cake.

“I thought Typical Lexa wasn’t going to be Typical Lexa this time?” Anya calls at her from the couch as Lexa flies through the front door. The brunette rolls her eyes but doesn’t stop to talk. She heads straight for her room, already pulling her shirt over her head as she crosses the threshold. Fortunately her uniform is on the floor exactly where she left it, albeit wrinkled and dirty, but she has no other options.

“What time do you work?” Anya appears in the doorway and leans against the frame.

“11,” Lexa responds without looking up as she buttons up the front of her shirt.

“So I guess we’ll have to talk later about how you ignored my texts and phone calls, and about how you did exactly what you said you weren’t going to do,” Anya folds her arms across her chest, looking more like a mother than she ever has.

“There’s not really anything to talk about,” Lexa says as she pulls on the black skinny jeans and buttons them.

“Are you saying you weren’t with Clarke last night?” Anya asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” Lexa says through tight lips, becoming annoyed and frantic as she glances at the clock. “I’m not saying that.”

“So Clarke isn’t any different then,” Anya says with a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head. Though she has always been protective of Lexa and her heart, Anya had gotten her hopes up that maybe Lexa had found something good. Maybe she had stumbled onto something that would help her end this shameless phase of hooking up. But apparently, Clarke was just another chapter in a very, very long book.

“Anya, don’t,” Lexa growls, and Anya’s taken aback for a second before a knowing grin spreads across her face.

“Oh, I get it,” she says smugly, but Lexa doesn’t linger to listen. She pulls her coat around her and brushes past Anya without a glance. “You know we’re going to talk about it later,” Anya continues, following Lexa down the hallway back to the front door.

“Okay, whatever, we’ll talk about it later, but I have to go!” Lexa slams the front door shut behind her and Anya stands alone in the kitchen. A satisfied smile still on her face, Anya pulls out her phone and types out a text.

 

\------

 

“Raven, your phone is going off."

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is. I can hear it vibrating.”

Raven still hasn’t moved from the couch. The hangover has refused to let go of the young girl, and truthfully, she’s kind of a crybaby anyway. Octavia rolls her eyes at the drama queen and relents.

“Fine, I was just trying to be helpful.” The girl shrugs.

That’s when Raven lifts her head from the pillow for the third time and turns to look at her friends on the loveseat. Then she pulls her hand out from underneath the pillow, her phone wrapped tightly in her hands.

“It’s not my phone going off,” Raven retorts, showing Octavia the blank screen. Octavia’s brow furrows in confusion, and she and Clarke exchange confused glances before they each look at their phone. Octavia’s sits on the coffee table in front of them and Clarke’s is plugged into a charger and resting on the edge of the loveseat. Neither of them has any notifications.

Then they hear the dull sound of a vibrating phone again, and even Raven looks confused now.

“It’s definitely coming from over there,” Clarke says, motioning toward the couch that Raven has claimed. “Check the cushions. Maybe someone lost their phone.”

“I don’t wanna mooooove,” Raven whines, but sits up anyway. She plunges her hand between the cushions and the back of the couch and, sure enough, pulls a phone from the depths of the couch.

“Whose is that?” Octavia asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s blowing the fuck up,” Raven says and then glances at the screen. “Text messages from… Anya?”

Octavia and Raven’s eyes both fall on Clarke, and then they light up with devilish mischief.

“Oh my god, what do they say?” Octavia asks, jumping from the loveseat to join Raven on the couch.

“Guys, don’t,” Clarke interjects, but she doesn’t exactly try to stop them. “We shouldn’t go through her phone.”

“You don’t have to join us,” Raven responds. “But as your best friends, it’s our duty to do as much digging as possible, and we just found a gold mine.” Octavia nods enthusiastically and they both turn their attention back to the cell phone.

Clarke shakes her head, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little curious. The chances that the conversation is about Clarke are slim to none, so what harm could it do? She’d probably just find a boring text reminding Lexa to bring home milk or something. But still, she can’t stop the small seedling of guilt that’s begun to take root in her stomach as her friends fall silent.

The grins slowly fall from their faces, their expressions becoming more and more grim as the silence passes. Concern blossoms in Clarke’s chest, but she tries to seem uninterested. But when Raven looks up at her, the look on her face has Clarke leaping from her seat to the couch.

“What did you find?” Clarke questions, trying to peak at the phone but Octavia has it held closely to her chest. She looks back and forth between her friends, but both of them avoid her eye contact. Octavia caves first.

“It might be nothing,” she says, trying to sound reassuring. Clarke finally can’t take it anymore and decides to cut the bullshit. She tears the phone from Octavia’s grasp, disregarding every instinct telling her that this is wrong, that she shouldn’t snoop through Lexa’s privacy. She starts reading anyway.

 

**Anya (10:54 am):** I know you’re working and said we’ll talk later, but I can’t help myself. I know you, Lex. I know what’s going through that twisted head of yours.

**Anya (10:55 am):** You let your guard down, I get that, but don’t start pushing people away again. Don’t build the walls back up twice as high just because you think it’ll protect you.

**Anya (10:57 am):** You’ve been through a lot, and I wish to god I could take all that away, but I can’t. But you can’t be alone forever. You deserve so much more than that. Clarke could be good for you.

 

Clarke feels a smile creep onto her face.

 

**Anya (10:58 am):** Don’t let it scare you. She’s not Costia.

 

Clarke’s a little confused at the last text message, but it’s the last one that Anya sent. She glances up at her friends and the sullen looks plastered on their faces, and she actually chuckles.

“Come on, guys. That’s not so bad. So she’s got an ex. Who doesn’t?” She says light-heartedly, but Raven and Octavia just shake their heads slowly.

“Scroll up,” Raven says without making eye contact. “Read the ones from last night.” Clarke’s light-hearted demeanor falls away and she turns her attention back to the cell phone and scrolls up to where the conversation started yesterday.

 

**Anya (4:30 pm):** Are you gonna be back for dinner tonight?

**Anya (4:42 pm):** Hellloooo? Lexa??

**Anya (5:13 pm):** You can’t seriously be having sex already?

**Anya (5:15 pm):** Well, I guess this is you we’re talking about.

**Anya (5:16 pm):** No more one-night stands, remember??

**Anya (5:32 pm):** LEXA

**Anya (6:07 pm):** Fine. Do whatever you want.

**Lexa (6:09 pm):** Omg not having sex, just watching a movie. I’ll be home later.

**Anya (6:10 pm):** Oh. Okay. Good.

**Anya (8:42 pm):** I just got off the phone with Mom. You should come home. We need to talk.

**Anya (9:12 pm):** Are you coming home soon?

**Anya (10:37 pm):** It’s getting late. I thought you were coming home?

**Anya (10:49 pm):** Mom called again. It’s not good, Lexa. We need to talk.

**Anya (11:29 pm):** Costia and Roan are pressing charges.

 

That’s the last text before Anya’s texts from today. Clarke reads them over and over again, dissecting each piece of information. Her attention lingers on the mention of one-night stands and, obviously, the pressed charges. After reading the conversation three times, she looks up at her friends who have finally regained the ability to look at her.

“I don’t even know what to do with this,” Clarke mumbles, holding the phone out like it’s a diseased rodent. Octavia takes the phone from her and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Do you know anything about Costia?” Octavia asks, concern imminent in her voice. Clarke shakes her head. They’d only known each other for a few days. She didn’t expect to know Lexa’s life story already, but she thought something this big would have come up at least once by now.

“It’s probably just something stupid,” Raven adds, trying to console the girl. “It probably won’t even go anywhere.”

“What about the ‘no more one-night stands’ comment?” Clarke asks, looking back at her friends with insecurity swimming in her eyes. “What if this is just what she does? She acts all charming and perfect and then fucks you and that’s it.”

Clarke can feel her breaths coming faster and shorter. She knows she’s letting her emotions get the best of her. She knows it’s unreasonable to get upset because, let’s be honest, Clarke had participated in more than one one-night stand in the past. But still, both parties had known exactly what that night was and what it wasn’t. They both knew what the expectations were. But with Lexa, it felt like more, and the earth-shattering truth that it may have been just a hook-up to Lexa had Clarke’s heart aching in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Hey,” Octavia says soothingly, draping an arm around the blonde’s shoulder and pulling her closer. Raven reaches across Octavia and places a hand on Clarke’s knee, and then squeezes it reassuringly. “You don’t know that.”

“Yeah,” Raven adds. “And you heard what Anya said. _No more_ of them. That’s not what last night was.” Clarke nods. Raven had said the words to comfort her and make her feel better, but truthfully, she’s not convinced either. She can already feel a dislike for Lexa edging into her thoughts, her protective nature rearing up.

“Don’t get worked up before you have all the facts,” Octavia says, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind Clarke’s ear. Clarke nods again, focuses on her breathing and heaves a long, drawn out sigh.

“You’re right,” she says, composed and in control. She pushes her emotional response aside and reasons with logic. Octavia is right. She can’t draw any conclusions without all the information. Clarke takes the phone back from Octavia and launches herself from the couch.

“Where are you going?” Octavia calls, but Clarke is already halfway up the stairs to her bedroom.

“If I had to guess, I’d say she’s going to get the facts,” Raven answers with a shrug.

 

\------

 

Octavia had offered to drive Clarke to the restaurant, but Clarke denied the offer. Living so close to campus, Clarke had no need for a car and the public transport system around the college town wasn’t the worst. In fact, sometimes she preferred it, like today. Today, she preferred the lengthy bus ride. It gave her time to process, and it gave her time to consider what she wanted to say. It also gave her time to think about every terrible way that this could go, but she didn’t allow herself to ponder those for very long.

Forty-five minutes after leaving the house, Clarke finally steps off the bus and into the IHOP parking lot. She spots Kurt parked in the back row and actually feels relieved. At least Lexa hadn’t lied about having to go to work today, right? That’s a good sign. Right? Clarke tucks her hands into her coat pockets and wraps her fingers around a phone – one in each hand.

One deep breath later, and Clarke starts walking for the front door.

The place is dead. There’s one old man sitting in a corner booth, drinking coffee and reading a newspaper, but that’s it. Tuesday’s must not be good days for pancakes.

Lexa stands behind the front register, talking with one of her co-workers in the kitchen through the window, her back to Clarke. They banter back and forth and Lexa laughs at whatever the man says and then playfully flips him off. Clarke smiles before she can stop herself, but then quickly wipes it from her face. She needs to be cautious. She needs to be smart.

“Hey,” Clarke says, her voice absent of any quiver or doubt. She forces herself to hold her head up when Lexa turns around to find Clarke standing in front of her.

“Clarke,” Lexa says her name like it’s a breath of fresh air, like she’s been waiting to say it since she left. A smile starts to tug at her lips, but then Clarke sees something physically change in her. She watches as she straightens her spine and dawns that stone-like façade. Her eyes never change though. Clarke can still see the excitement shimmering in the hues of green. “What are you doing here?”

Clarke doesn’t bother responding. She just pulls her hand out of her pocket and sets the phone down on the counter in front of her. Lexa smiles genuinely even though a part of her doesn’t want to. She reaches for the phone and glances back up at the blonde. Any fear or anxiety empties out of her when she finds those blue eyes staring back at her.

“Thanks,” Lexa says. “By the time I noticed I’d forgotten it, I didn’t have time to come back before work.”

“You’re welcome. It must’ve gotten wedged into the couch at some point last night. We only found it because it kept blowing up.”

“Really?” Lexa’s brow furrows and Clarke thinks it’s the most endearing thing she’s ever seen, but she stays strong. Logical. She’s here for facts, not emotions. Lexa opens the phone and the conversation with Anya pops up. Clarke watches as her eyes trace over each text, and then she feels her heart ache when she sees the color drain from Lexa’s face.

Lexa’s eyes dart back to Clarke’s when she reads the final text. They bounce back and forth between Clarke’s eyes, her mouth opening and closing as she tries to find the words. “Clarke, I-“

“It’s okay, Lexa.” Clarke holds up a hand to stop her from continuing. “I shouldn’t have gone through your texts anyway.”

“Clarke, please.” Lexa stares at the girl, silently begging for her to understand. She can feel the edges of her composure giving way. Words fail her. Hell, a single train of thought fails her. Her brain becomes a tangled mess of Clarke, Costia, and bloody knuckles.

“That’s not your phone anymore,” Clarke says, breaking Lexa from her thoughts.

“What?” Lexa responds, more confused.

“That’s not your phone anymore. It’s a ball,” Clarke steps closer to the counter and then leans in. “And it’s in your court.”

And then Clarke leaves without another word more. Lexa watches her go, her brain working frantically to piece together the right sequence of words to make her stop. She watches Clarke through the window, resisting the urge to chase after her and kiss her senseless. What good would it do now? When Clarke boards the next bus, Lexa turns around disappears into the kitchen.

She finds a wall made of stone rather than typical drywall and lays her fist into it with her whole body. One would think she’d only punched a pillow though, because she seems entirely unfazed.

“Fuck,” she whimpers after a few seconds pass and the pain settles in. “You idiot,” she whispers to herself, examining the damage to her hand. “That’s what you got you into this fucking mess.”

Lexa turns and leans against the wall, her right hand tucked inside her left. She can already feel it growing hotter and it begins to swell. Lexa starts to slide down the wall until she’s sitting on the ground, her knees pulled to her chest. That familiar sense of panic starts to edge into her, like the gentle incoming of high tide. Harmless at first, until suddenly everything’s under water.

“ _No. We’re not doing this,_ ” she thinks to herself, willing herself to remain calm and composed. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and types out two text messages with her left hand. The first one goes to Clarke.

 

**Lexa (12:34 pm):** I can understand why you’re upset. I would really like the opportunity to explain everything to you. If you’ll have me?

 

She presses send before allowing herself to think too much about it, and then begins a text to Anya.

 **Lexa (12:35 pm):** What the actual fuck?

 

\------

 

Clarke presses her forehead against the window, grateful for the coolness to on the hot bus. Her heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she left the restaurant. She’s pretty proud of herself, admittedly. She wasn’t sure that she would be able to confront Lexa without melting into a puddle in front of the brunette, but she’d held her ground and gotten through it okay.

Still, the panicked look on Lexa’s face when she read the conversation on her phone made Clarke’s heart ache for the girl. History of one night-stands or not, Clarke knows that Lexa didn’t use her for sex. Clarke isn’t just another name on a long list of names, and that brought her some kind of comfort in this.

“You okay, Princess?”

Clarke pulls her forehead away from the window and finds an elderly man sitting across the aisle, watching her closely. She smiles politely and nods.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” the old man asks, a friendly smile spread across his face. Clarke turns to look at him again, and really looks at him this time, but still draws a blank. “That’s okay, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself the last time I saw you.”

“I’m sorry?” Clarke asks.

“You’re the girl Lexa was drooling over on Sunday,” the old man says knowingly. Clarke feels her cheeks flush red and the man smiles at her. “Anyway, I’m Earl.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Earl,” Clarke replies.

“That Lexa, though. She’s one of the good ones. Best damn waitress ever, but you know, she cares about people.” Clarke smiles while she listens to the man. “Just about the only person who listens to me talk these days.”

“I bet you have some great stories,” Clarke says, empathy overwhelming her.

“You bet I do!” Earl responds, and then sets into a bit about how his grandkids never want to listen to his stories. Clarke listens and adds her opinion where she should, and asks him questions to keep him talking. But when her phone vibrates against her hand, she struggles to focus on Earl and his story. After a few minutes, her resilience crumbles and she pulls her phone out of her pocket and sees the text from Lexa. She doesn’t respond though until Earl finishes his story. He gets off at the next stop, but turns around just before stepping off the bus.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asks.

“Oh, it’s Clarke,” she responds.

“Clarke. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around,” he says with a wink and then leaves. Then Clarke looks at her phone again and types out a response.

**Clarke (12:57 pm): Of course. Pick me up after work.**


	11. Chapter 11

When seven o’clock comes around, Clarke can feel her anxiousness swell in her stomach. She clings to her cell phone like it’s attached to her hand and checks it compulsively, expecting a text from Lexa any minute. Lexa should be off work by now. She would head over to Clarke’s house any minute, and the thought had Clarke’s stomach doing backflips and somersaults against her ribcage.

“Jesus, Griff. Calm down. You’re giving me a migraine,” Raven calls from the couch as Clarke paces up and down the hallway. Clarke just ignores her though, her mind working in overdrive as it contemplates all the possible ways this conversation could go. She imagines all the worst possible scenarios, each one worse than the previous, until she feels a hand on her shoulder.

“Clarke,” Octavia says calmly, a soothing smile on her face. “You’ve got to relax.”

“What if it’s bad, O? Like what if she did something _really_ bad?” Clarke stares at her, the worry etched into her frown.

“I know it’s only been a few days, but do you really think she’s capable of something _that_ bad?” Octavia asks.

Clarke thinks about this for a second. Did she know everything about Lexa? Obviously not. Not by a long shot. However, she knows some things about her. She knows that she loses track of time when she plays the guitar. She knows that her first reaction in any scenario is to protect Clarke. She knows that she loves Jack and drinks her coffee black. She knows she can’t back down from a challenge, that her past made her hard but also soft at the same time, that her walls made her cautious but also patient and gentle.

Clarke thinks of the time she’d spent with Lexa, from the very beginning. She thinks of the way that Lexa had teased and bantered with her after serenading her in the middle of campus, of the way that she’d joked with her friends at the restaurant. She thinks of the way she caught her before she could fall while ice-skating, of the way she never did anything that Clarke wasn’t okay with. She thinks of the way she’d hesitated to kiss her even though Clarke clearly wanted her to.

“No,” Clarke says quietly with a shake of her head. “No, I don’t think so.” But even as she says it, she thinks about all the times she had been wrong about someone. First impressions are never the most accurate.

“Stop thinking so much,” Octavia says and squeezes her arm. Clarke nods, and then there’s a knock on the door. Octavia glances at the door and then back to the blonde, who takes a deep breath and steadies herself. “You gonna be okay?"

“Yeah,” she says with a nod. “Yeah, I’m good.”

Octavia squeezes her arm one more time before joining Raven in the living room. Clarke steps over to the front door and hesitates before opening it. A breath fills her lungs, calming her nerves and focusing herself, and then she pulls the door open. Lexa stands with her hands behind her back, her gaze on the floor. When the door opens, she looks up shyly, a smile forced upon her face. Clarke finds it strange to see her like this – reserved and observably vulnerable.

“Hi,” she breathes, her voice shaking a little. The sound makes Clarke want to wrap the girl in her arms and comfort her, to tell her that everything’s okay and that there’s nothing to worry about. She forgoes the latter, but can’t stop herself from stepping forward and pulling Lexa into a hug.

Lexa collapses into it, her arms encircling Clarke too.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asks quietly before pulling away. She expects Lexa to become detached again, to take on that indifferent pretense and hide behind her walls. But instead, Lexa heaves a heavy sigh and looks down at her hands. When she looks back up at Clarke, Clarke can see a mix of emotions on her face – worry, fear, anger, sadness, and more.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Clarke,” she says with heaviness in her voice. She moves to sit on the edge of the porch and places her elbows on her knees, resting her face in her hands. Clarke sits down beside her, but doesn’t say anything. It’s like she can see Lexa’s brain trying to process what she’s going to say next. She can see the barriers that Lexa has spent so many years building to keep her safe, and Lexa trying to overcome them.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Clarke finally says quietly. Her hand reaches forward to touch her, but she stops midair, unsure if she should or not. Then she retracts her hand and folds it in her lap. Lexa tries to ignore the sting that it causes.

“You might run for the hills,” she says with a chuckle that ends with a frown, because she meant it as a joke but really it’s not far from the truth. Clarke reaches for her again and doesn’t stop this time, and she tucks a curl behind her ear.

“I might not,” Clarke replies with a reassuring smile. Lexa brings their eyes together, finding comfort in the blue waves of Clarke’s gaze. Though she tries to resist it, she can feel her body folding in on itself, retracting from Clarke’s presence, running for the safety of the walls she’s built. This, a conditioned response from years and years of losing people left and right, makes her feel safe and guarded.

But so does the comfort of Clarke’s eyes on her, warm and concerned and reassuring.

“Costia and I used to be friends,” Lexa says abruptly, like ripping off a band-aid. It surprises Clarke, and Lexa too if she’s being honest.

“Is Costia your ex?” Clarke questions hesitantly when Lexa doesn’t continue. Silence fills the air again while Clarke watches the thoughts swirl behind Lexa’s eyes, but then she finally sighs and shakes her head.

“No,” she says quietly. “Well, I guess in a way, she kind of is.”

The confusion on Clarke’s face brings a faint smile to Lexa’s lips.

“We went to high school together. We met freshman year,” Lexa begins, but she can feel the self-consciousness flourishing in her chest. She stutters over the next few words and then stops to center herself. “I’ve actually never told this story to anyone who wasn’t there to witness it,” she whispers quietly.

“Take all the time you need,” Clarke responds, resting her hand on Lexa’s forearm and squeezing it, a gentle _I’m here_. Lexa’s hand falls on top of Clarke’s gratefully.

“Costia was a year older than me, but we took a lot of the same electives. She was my best friend in every sense of the word – my first _real_ friend ever, actually. When I came to terms with my sexuality, I told her first, and all she did was shrug and say ‘well, duh.”

Lexa smiles fondly at the memory, a sad kind of smile that Clarke hates to see.

“She gave me the courage to come out, to be exactly who I am regardless of what people thought. I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it hadn’t been for her. I felt invisible in the foster care system, and she made me realize that I had value even though my parents didn’t want me. That my past had been their fault, not mine. She helped me find my confidence.”

The smile on Lexa’s face fades away.

“I fell in love with her.” The words come out with a sort of chuckle, and Lexa shakes her head at herself. “I played the typical role of the lesbian who falls in love with her straight best friend. For years, I let myself love her even though she didn’t love me back – at least, not the way I wanted her to. But I decided it was better to have her as a friend rather than not have her at all, so I just… I made it work. Until my junior year of college.”

A car drives by slowly and Lexa stops to watch it until the taillights disappear around a corner. Clarke shifts closer to her, huddling for warmth just as much as to comfort the brunette. Lexa turns to look at her, her green eyes shadowed by her long eyelashes.

“We both got really drunk one night at a party. I mean _really_ drunk. She could barely stand upright and I was drinking Jack, so I’m sure you can assume what that was like. Anyway, long story short, we hooked up that night. I didn’t hold it against her or anything; I thought she was just drunk and horny. But the next day, she told me that it was more than that. She told me that she wanted to be with me and I thought my head was going to explode. I’d finally gotten everything that I wanted.

“Or so I thought. We kind of acted like a couple after that, went on dates and had sex and stuff. Not much really changed between us though because we already spent most of our time together and people at school were used to seeing us together. She didn’t see the point in putting a label on it. We were just… having fun?

“In hindsight, I should’ve known what was going on. Costia tried to have her cake and eat it too. She wanted to keep having sex without all of the scary relationship stuff and without having to admit that she liked girls. Eventually I gave her a choice: a relationship or friendship. I couldn’t do the middle ground thing anymore. I like things to be black and white, and everything with her had become unbearably gray.”

Lexa has her hands balled into fists so tightly that her nails dig crescent moons into her palms. Clarke watches her carefully, her eyes tracing over her like scanners, but she waits patiently. Lexa stays silent for a few moments, her eyes on her balled fists. When she looks back to Clarke, she has that stoic mask displayed on her features, but her eyes – her eyes give her away.

“She told me that she’d made a mistake with me, and that she had gotten her feelings for me confused. She could only see me as a friend and nothing more. I told her that I didn’t think I could go back to being her friend, and so she cut me out of her life. We just stopped talking, like our friendship had never existed. She blocked me on every form of social media and flat out refused to talk to me.”

Clarke loops her arm through Lexa’s at this point, and rests her hand on the inside of her leg, pulling her closer. She rests her head on Lexa’s shoulder. Regardless of what happens between them after tonight, the sadness in Lexa’s voice causes Clarke’s heart to break for her. All she wants to do is take that sadness from her. Lexa doesn’t seem to mind either, and she rests her head on top of Clarke’s.

“So what are the charges Anya told you about?” Clarke asks quietly.

“The story’s not over,” Lexa says with a sigh. “After that happened, I was a wreck. Anya was there for me as much as she could be, but I pretty much isolated myself from everyone and wallowed in my own self-pity. My heart was shattered, and the only person that I wanted to see wouldn’t talk to me. I drank a lot. I smoked a lot. I had a _lot_ of meaningless sex.

“I was at a party one night just off campus, hammered and looking for a random to hook up with. And then Costia walked in with her boyfriend, Roan. She didn’t say anything to me or even fucking acknowledge me, so I just kept on drinking, of course. I don’t think I’d ever been that drunk in my life, so I went outside to get some air, and I found them arguing on the front porch.

“They were screaming at each other, and he was getting in her face. She told him to fuck off and tried to leave, but he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back. He started shaking her and kept yelling and she started crying and I– I just lost it, Clarke.”

Lexa’s breath comes out shaky and shallow, her fists trembling. Clarke can feel the tension in her muscles, pulled tight like a spring begging for release.

“Hey,” Clarke whispers, pulling her head back to look at her. Lexa’s jaw is clenched tight and she can make out the outline of a vein pulsing at her temple. Clarke places a finger beneath her chin and Lexa finally turns to look at her. “It’s okay, Lexa. You need to breathe.”

She forces her lungs to take in as much air as they can hold and then pushes it out slowly, trying to slow her heart rate and relieve the tension in her body. “I can’t believe I fucked up like that,” she whispers, trembling.

“To be honest, I probably would’ve done it for you had I been there. The guy sounds like a total douche. He deserves what he got,” Clarke says reassuringly, and she means it. Lexa chuckles softly in response, but she doesn’t smile.

“They had to take him to the hospital. I broke his nose and his jaw got pretty fucked up. I never really got any of the details. It’s not like Costia filled me in or anything,” Lexa says.

“I’m confused though,” Clarke replies. “I’m surprised he would press charges after getting beat up by a girl. I mean, that’s kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they tell the story a little differently than how it actually happened,” Lexa says with a shake of her head. “Roan had to make up an excuse. He told everyone that I started everything, that he and Costia were outside on the porch enjoying the evening when I found them there. Apparently I had gotten consumed by a jealous rage and lost my mind. They said I attacked Costia, and when Roan stepped in to defend her, that’s when I attacked him.”

“You can’t be serious,” Clarke says incredulously. “And people believe him?”

Lexa shrugs. “Roan grew up in this town. His mother is the mayor and she’s not a very delightful woman, but Roan is practically a prince around here. People are a lot more willing to believe him than a troubled girl from the foster system.”

Clarke tries to find something to argue that statement, but she fails. “I’m so sorry, Lexa. You don’t deserve that.”

Lexa shrugs again, her normal mannerisms falling back into place. A weight has fallen from her shoulders now that everything is out in the open, and she feels more like herself than she has in a long time. “I don’t know what will happen next. I didn’t expect a lot from Costia, but I never thought she’d go along with something like this.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything. If she’s being honest, comforting people really isn’t her strong suit, especially in a situation as shitty as this one. It completely baffles her mind how someone could be so cruel to someone who had once been their best friend, let alone someone as kind and genuine as Lexa. It makes Clarke’s chest burn with anger, but she tries to push it away.

“Can I ask you something?” Clarke asks, a little unwillingly. Lexa meets her gaze and sees the concern in her features.

“You can ask me anything.”

“Well, you said you’ve basically just been having meaningless sex and then what Anya said about all the one night stands. I’m sorry, I just have to ask. Is that what’s going on here?” Clarke has to force the words out of her mouth and she can feel her cheeks grow redder the more she speaks. Lexa stares back at her, her eyes darting left and right, panic etched into her expression. “Fuck, I just mean, if that’s what this is, I want to know. Is meaningless sex what you’re looking for?”

Lexa can feel her own face flush too. She probably should have seen this coming, but she had been so worried about Clarke freaking out that she’d beat the shit out of a guy that she hadn’t really given herself a chance to think about it. It causes a red alarm to blare inside her head, led by that side of her that’s been trying to hide from Clarke from the moment she thought she wanted more than sex. She can feel the two sides of her battling, one telling her to tell Clarke that this is all she will ever want and one telling her to tell Clarke she wants so much more. But with Clarke staring back at her with wide, blue eyes that swim with regret and fear, Lexa knows she has to make a choice.

“Clarke,” she says, placing a hand on Clarke’s knee. “Feelings scare the shit out of me. I mean it. They make me want to run as far away as possible in the opposite direction, and then catch a plane and keep going.”

Disappointment floods Clarke’s whole body, but she doesn’t show it. She just nods solemnly, looking away. “I understand.”

“No, you don’t,” Lexa interjects, squeezing Clarke’s knee to get her attention. “Ever since Costia, everything in me tells me to stay the fuck away from people. I never spend any time with anybody that isn’t Anya or people from work. I meet girls at parties and then leave before they wake up in the morning and never talk to them again.”

“Wow, that’s pretty shitty,” Clarke interrupts.

“My point _is_ , Clarke, that it’s different with you.” Lexa squeezes Clarke’s knee again for emphasis. “I don’t take one night stands on dates or meet their friends or stay the night.” Clarke just stares back at her, not allowing herself to get her hopes up. Lexa laughs lightly. “I don’t know what this is. It’s new and it scares the shit out of me, but it also makes me kind of excited, and it definitely is not meaningless.”

A smile toys at Clarke’s lips, the disappointment draining out of her in an instant. She leans forward and places her hand behind Lexa’s neck, pulling her closer until their lips meet. The kiss is sweet and needy at the same time. When Clarke pulls away, she rests her forehead against Lexa’s and smiles.

“It makes me kind of excited too.”

 

\------

 

Lexa had decided not to come inside, despite Clarke’s seductive attempts and her puppy dog eyes. It had taken every ounce of willpower in her body to refuse, and she made it abundantly clear that she really, really wanted to. _Really_. But she had given Clarke a lot of information and she wanted to give her a chance to think about it before anything else happened between them.

Clarke loved that she had refused the offer, but she hated it too.

“Uh oh,” Raven says as Clarke walks through the front door, and she tosses her magazine onto the coffee table. “No Lexa. What happened? Did she kill someone?”

“Raven, I swear,” Octavia says, reaching for a pillow to smother her with, but Raven catches her wrist.

“If you hit me with another god damn pillow, I’ll tell everyone about all the sounds you make during sex,” Raven warns, eyeing her closely. Octavia glares at her. “My room is right next to yours; I can hear everything.”

“Everyone’s already heard them, dumbass,” she retorts and yanks her wrist from Raven’s grip. Before Raven can retaliate, Octavia grabs a pillow and lunges at her with it, beating her repeatedly with it.

“OKAY, Jackie Chan! Calm down!” Raven cries, trying to cover her face from Octavia’s brutal attack. Clarke laughs and makes no attempt to stop Octavia. When she finally relents, Raven groans and rubs her temples.

“Anyway,” Octavia says, sitting back down on the couch. “How’d it go?”

Clarke sits down on the coffee table between her two friends on the couch. “I think it went well,” she says with a couple nods.

“Clarke,” Raven deadpans. “You guys talked for over two hours. Can you give us a little more information than that?”

Octavia nods curiously, and Clarke wonders if Lexa would be okay with her telling her story to Raven and Octavia. “I think I should ask her if she’s okay with that first. I’m sorry.”

“Text her,” Raven says, pointing to Clarke’s cell phone. “Now.”

“You’re incredible,” Octavia says with a roll of her eyes.

“What? I wanna know!”

Octavia shakes her head again, but she can’t deny that she wants to know just as much as Raven does. Both of them stare at Clarke, waiting for her to reach for her phone. Octavia raises her eyebrows expectantly, and then Clarke finally rolls her eyes and reaches for her phone.

 

 **Clarke (9:34 pm):** My friends are nosy assholes and want to know what we talked about all night.

 **Clarke (9:34 pm):** I just want to know what you’re okay with them knowing or not knowing.

 **Clarke (9:35 pm):** I won’t tell them anything you don’t want me to.

 

She clicks send on the last text and then looks up at her friends. “Happy now?” 

“I’ll be happy when she texts you back,” Raven grumbles, and Clarke giggles.

“You’re a child. How’s that hangover?” Clarke questions, realizing that Raven no longer has her head tucked into the corner of the couch and is no longer spouting death threats at those who disturb her.

“Mostly gone. Although my liking for rum has been completely destroyed,” she says with a grimace and her stomach churns at that moment at the memory of the liquid.

“Well that’s good, because you guys killed that bottle last night,” Octavia adds.

“I don’t do anything half ass. You know this.”

Clarke’s phone vibrates in her hand and it doesn’t go unnoticed. Octavia and Raven both watch her expectantly and Clarke can only laugh.

 

 **Lexa (9:39 pm):** Are they going to tell you to stop talking to me because I’m a loose cannon with rage issues?

 

Clarke glances up at her friends at this point, both of them watching her with their own kind of rage (curiosity) boiling behind their eyes. She imagines if either of them had been in the same scenario Lexa had, and then returns to her cell phone.

 

 **Clarke (9:40 pm):** They would have to tell me to stop talking to them too if that were the case. They would’ve done the same thing.

 

“What’d she say?” Raven questions eagerly. 

“She hasn’t made a decision yet,” Clarke says, and Raven groans and throws her head back against the couch dramatically.

“What about the one night stand thing? Did you guys talk about that?” Octavia adds.

“We did,” Clarke confirms.

“And????” Raven questions, leaning forward with an expression on her face that says she’s about to lunge for Clarke if she withholds any more information.

Clarke’s phone vibrates.

“I’m going to kill them both,” Raven says to Octavia. Clarke smirks, reveling in the power she has over the Latina. Might as well drag it out, right? She opens her phone to read Lexa’s text.

 

 **Lexa (9:42 pm):** As long as I don’t lose their approval, feel free to tell them whatever ;)

 **Clarke (9:43 pm):** Who said you ever earned their approval, smartass? ;)

 

The emoticon shouldn’t have made Clarke’s heart flip, but it did, and she feels like a teenager when she laughs about it. Raven launches a pillow at her and it connects with her face with a thud, and Clarke glares daggers at her.

“Fine. See if I tell you anything,” she says pointedly to Raven.

“Wait, she gave you the okay?!” Raven responds with wide eyes. Clarke nods smugly. “Griffin, you gotta tell me. I’m dying to know, please!”

“You have no dignity,” Octavia says with a shake of her head, chuckling lightly. “What’s the big secret?”

Clarke decides then that she wants to tell them everything just as much as they want to know everything, and so she begins with Lexa’s story from the very beginning. She explains the ins and outs of Lexa and Costia’s friendship and quote unquote relationship. She goes into every detail about why it all affected Lexa so much, about what growing up in the system had done to her and how Costia had helped her move past that and just how much Costia had meant to her. Raven and Octavia hang onto every word, frowning in certain areas and glaring in others.

When Clarke finally finishes the entire story, the room falls silent. Raven’s mouth hangs open and Octavia’s brow furrows, but they don’t say anything at first.

“Do we know where Costia lives?” Octavia is the first one to break the silence.

“Um, no?” Clarke responds, confusion evident in her voice. “Why?”

“Because the bitch deserves a fucking beat down,” Octavia says fiercely. “Seriously. How fucked up is that? How could you do that to someone, let alone someone you used to call your best friend?”

Raven nods in agreement. “You can take Costia. I’d like to break Roan’s nose all over again, and then some. What the fuck? How does Lexa not lose it all over again?”

Clarke doesn’t know why, but the way her friends quickly defend Lexa makes her heart swell. “I don’t know. Honestly. Costia broke her heart, practically ruined her. She said she was a wreck after it all happened. All she did was drink, smoke, and have meaningless sex because it’s all she could handle.”

“Speaking of meaningless sex,” Octavia says. “You guys talked about that, right?”

Clarke feels her cheeks turn the lightest shade of pink and Raven rolls her eyes. “We did. She said it’s different with me. It’s not meaningless.”

Octavia squeals and leaps off the couch to wrap her arms around Clarke’s shoulders, pulling her against her chest for a tight hug. Even Raven can’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. Clarke laughs and hugs Octavia back before she pulls away.

“I don’t know what the next step is, but I think that’s okay. I don’t need anything to happen right away. She’s so fucking afraid to feel anything, and after hearing about Costia, I’m surprised she admitted as much as she did.”

“I’m just glad that she’s not just some ho looking for some ass,” Raven adds. “I didn’t want to have to beat her ass, but I would have if it came down to it.”

“But you guys are good, right?” Octavia asks suspiciously.

“Yeah, we’re good. Why?”

“Why didn’t she stay?” The curiosity in Octavia’s voice is impossible to miss.

“I offered,” Clarke explains. “But she wanted to give me time to think about everything before anything else happened.”

Octavia resists the urge to let out a drawn out “aw,” and Raven groans. Clarke looks at her with a raised eyebrow, questioning. Raven just shakes her head at her.

“Well, fuck,” she begins. “If you don’t marry her, I will.”

 

\------

 

The three girls stay up for a few more hours, talking and giggling on the couch. Octavia goes into details about Lincoln and how they have a date that weekend. He grew up around Arkadia too, and turns out he’s a few years older than Lexa. They’d gone to the same high school, but she had been a freshman when he was a senior and he only knew about her because it was a small town and people talked. After high school, he went to Arkadia and got a degree in business and now owns a rather successful martial arts studio in town. 

When midnight finally rolls around, Clarke decides to head upstairs. She says goodnight to her roommates and then grabs her phone from the coffee table before climbing up the stairs.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Clarke climbs into bed and falls back on the pillow. That’s when she realizes that it still smells like Lexa and so she buries her face in it, inhaling deeply, and a smile spreads across her face.

“Oh, shit,” she mumbles when she notices that she hasn’t paid any attention to her phone since she texted Lexa back. She unlocks the screen and Clarke actually feels relief when she sees several unopened texts from her.

 

 **Lexa (9:50 pm):** Have you met me? Everyone approves ;)

 **Lexa (10:12 pm):** Was that too cocky? I promise my ego’s not _that_ big

 **Lexa (10:13 pm):** Well, okay, maybe it is.

The texts make Clarke giggle and she suddenly feels guilty for ignoring Lexa for so long. She types out a response.

 

 **Clarke (12:11 am):** Sorry, Raven and Octavia demanded my utmost attention. They most certainly approve, and I like your ego just the way it is

 

She tucks her phone under the pillow and then turns off the lamp on her nightstand. It surprises her when her phone goes off almost immediately, but she definitely isn’t complaining.

 

 **Lexa (12:12 am):** Did you tell them?

 

On the other side of town, Lexa lies in bed and squints against the glaring light of her cell phone as she reads through the conversation. Nerves tingle at the surface of her skin like they have been ever since Clarke asked if she could tell Raven and Octavia about her past. The radio silence from Clarke since then had driven her crazy, so when her phone went off, she had practically jumped out of her skin.

 

 **Clarke (12:14 am):** Yes.

 

Lexa glares at the screen.

 

 **Lexa (12:14 am):** And?

 

She doesn’t bother putting the phone down to wait for a response. She can practically feel Clarke smirking.

 

 **Clarke (12:15 am):** Octavia wants to know where Costia lives so she can beat her for you.

 **Clarke (12:15 am):** Raven would be happy to break Roan’s nose all over again, and then some.

 

Lexa doesn’t expect the overwhelming relief that floods over her. She guesses it comes from the fact that she never expected anyone to believe her word over Roan’s, but then she remembers that these people don’t know her as Lexa the Foster Kid or Lexa the Lost Cause. Clarke and her friends see Lexa, the girl who plays guitar in the middle of the night and walks her date to the door.

 

 **Clarke** **(12:17 am):** They really like you, Lexa.

 

Lexa smiles and types out a response.

 

 **Lexa (12:18 am):** Good, because they’re stuck with me.

 **Clarke (12:18 am):** Is that so?

 **Lexa (12:19 am):** You’re stuck with me too.

 **Clarke (12:20 am):** Remind me again why you’re not in my bed?

 **Lexa (12:21 am):** I have no fucking clue

 **Clarke (12:22 am):** I’m falling asleep.

 **Lexa (12:23 am):** Me too. Go to sleep.

 **Clarke (12:25):** Okay. Goodnight, Lexa.

 **Lexa (12:26):** Goodnight, Clarke. Sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback and comments are always welcome! I love hearing your guys' thoughts and opinions! :)


	12. Chapter 12

Life surprises you sometimes. Everybody knows that. But even with that in mind, Lexa hadn’t expected Clarke to accept her past and her baggage with such grace and lack of hesitation. The two had spent the past week constantly engaged in conversation with each other, whether in person or via text. Lexa had suddenly become entirely too grateful for the invention of the cell phone, because it gave her access to Clarke even when life demanded that she be at work or some other unreasonable place that wasn’t with Clarke.

But even with all of Clarke’s blatant understanding and support, Lexa finds herself waiting for the other shoe to drop. She can’t help but expect Clarke to wake up one morning and decide that maybe everybody else has the right idea; maybe Lexa is a loose cannon with an anger problem. Maybe Lexa did grow up on the wrong side of town, and so that meant that she could not be trusted. Maybe Lexa just expects her to walk away for any reason, because eventually, everyone else did too.

The thoughts circle restlessly in Lexa’s brain, and she tries to ease her mind with her guitar cradled in her arms. Her fingertips are even more raw than usual as she slides them up and down the frets of her guitar. The notes come out precise, but she rushes the tempo. A quarter note becomes an eighth; a whole rest turns into three beats instead of four. Her fingers miss a chord transition and she plucks the fourth string instead of the fifth. A note falls flat and it rings against her eardrum like an insult.

“Fuck off,” she says with exasperation, palming the strings of her guitar and pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration, eyes shut. At that moment, her phone vibrates on her nightstand. She doesn’t have to reach for it to know that it’s Clarke. It’s always Clarke. It eases the slightest bit of frustration away, despite her aching fingertips.

**Clarke (1:14 pm): Octavia, Raven, and I are going out tonight to celebrate the end of spring break. You should come?**

Lexa stares down at the phone, her guitar still tucked underneath her arm, and smiles despite herself.

**Lexa (1:15 pm): Is that a question or a statement?**

The response comes immediately.

**Clarke (1:15 pm): Statement. You should come.**

A chuckle bubbles up her throat as Lexa returns her guitar to its stand in the corner of her bedroom, and then she collapses onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

The thought of an evening out with Clarke makes her excited, but Lexa knows that a night out probably means the bars downtown and not the house parties she typically frequents. House parties usually entail lots of drunk girls and college students who have no idea who she is. Downtown bars mean the exact opposite. Downtown bars mean locals and people she went to high school with, people who used to look at her without judgment in their eyes but now can hardly make eye contact with her.

Despite the fact that Lexa and Clarke have been talking non-stop since they met, and despite the fact that Lexa has zero regrets about whatever she has with her, that voice in the back of her head still remains. Hell, even the part of her that isn’t scared shitless of her feelings is having second thoughts about going out with Clarke tonight. What if Clarke sees the way people stare at her and then avert their gaze when she turns to them? Or the way they whisper to their friends behind guarded hands?

This town is a fucking fish bowl, and Lexa is the clownfish everybody wants to stare at because she looks like Nemo.

And is it fair for Lexa to pull Clarke into that fish bowl with her? To put her on display while people make their assumptions about the nature of their relationship (or lack thereof)? The thought makes her stomach churn with bile, because Lexa doesn’t want Clarke to be seen as one of many in an endless string of hook ups. She doesn’t want the blonde to be thrown into a category of faceless women, even if it is only in the minds of those who mean nothing.

Lexa sets her phone on her chest and brings her hands up to her eyes, pushing the heels of her palms against them until dots appear in the darkness. She must have really done something to piss someone off in some past life, because this shit makes her head hurt. The thoughts in her mind rattle back and forth, torn between what she wants to do and what she thinks is right.

Several minutes pass where Lexa remains within the whirlwind of her thoughts, so consumed by them that she nearly jumps off her bed when her phone vibrates against her chest.

**Clarke (1:22 pm): It’s okay if you don’t want to. You can say no.**

They’re just a bunch of letters on the screen, but Lexa can feel the passive disappointment emanating from them. It strikes her straight in the chest and images of sad blue eyes cloud her judgment.

**Lexa (1:23 pm): I’ll be there.**

 

\-----

 

“The uber’s here! Let’s go, bitches!”

Clarke hears the drunken words bounce up the stairway, followed by the sound of cheers of enthusiasm. Raven and Octavia have already had three shots each and the tequila has already started to warm their bodies.

“Clarke Griffin, you got your hot ass down here!!” Octavia calls from the bottom of the stairs, and Clarke rushes to grab her jacket and wallet from her bed.

“I’m coming!” she calls as she marches down the stairs, going through a mental checklist of all the things she needs: cell phone, money, ID, keys. Does anything else really matter? Nah. Raven, Octavia, and Lincoln are waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, Lincoln hovering behind Octavia. He chugs a beer in the time it takes Clarke to reach the bottom of the stairs and then tosses the can into a nearby trash can.

“Fucking finally!” Raven mutters, throwing her hands in the air with exaggerated frustration. “The uber was going to leave without us!”

Clarke just rolls her eyes and shoves her friend playfully, who staggers more than she should. Clarke laughs at her while she struggles to regain her balance. “I’m here now, let’s go!”

The four friends pour out the front door and head to the car after Clarke locks the door.

“Can we try not to get kicked out of the uber this time?” Octavia calls out, but Clarke knows it’s aimed at Raven. At that, Raven spins around to face Octavia while still walking toward the car.

“ONE TIME! It was one time!” Raven says defensively. “It’s not my fault the guy couldn’t take a damn joke!”

Clarke and Octavia both laugh and Lincoln glances between them questioningly, clearly missing the story. But there’s no time to tell the story as they climb into the Honda civic that’s come to take them to the bars. Clarke takes the back seat with Lincoln and Octavia and Raven seats herself in the front.

“Hey, I’m Wick,” he introduces himself, but turns to face Raven. “And don’t worry, I know how to take a joke. I won’t kick anyone out of my car tonight.” 

Clarke and Octavia laugh out loud and even Lincoln offers a chuckle, but Raven just grits her teeth and shoots a glare at her friends. Wick smiles at her before shaking her head and allowing the smile to creep onto her face.

“Just try to get us to the bars in one piece, okay, Wick?” She exaggerates the K at the end of his name, and he smiles before pulling away from the curb.

 

\-----

 

The college town has very few options for bars off campus, but among the few, TonDC is definitely the most popular. Although it’s not particularly big, it has a dance floor and plays music from this generation and the drinks are cheap. What more can a college student really ask for?

Clarke clings to her phone, waiting for Lexa to announce her arrival, and beelines for the bar with Raven while Octavia and Lincoln head straight for the dance floor. The music pulsating around her makes her body crave the buzz in her veins, to abandon rational thought and lose herself in the sea of bodies on the floor. The bartender approaches the girls and they each order two shots of tequila.

“Where’s Lexa?” Raven asks while the bartender pours their drinks.

“She should be here soon,” she says with a shrug, trying to seem nonchalant. Truth is that she feels the anticipation simmering beneath her skin like static. “Anya is coming with her.”

The bartender sets the shots down in front of the girls and Raven slides her card across the table and tells him to keep it open. The girls waste no time pouring the liquid down their throats like a couple of experts, one right after the other. A smile pulls at the corner of Clarke’s lips as she feels the warmth of it in her stomach.

“Anya’s the sister, right?” Raven questions.

“Yeah, basically.”

“Is she hot?”

Clarke rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. “You need to get laid. Seriously.”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?!” Raven yells loudly, drowned out by the bass of the music. Clarke just laughs and shakes her head.

“I bet Wick would help you out with that,” Clarke says with a smirk.

“The uber driver?” Raven asks and Clarke nods. Raven stares at her friend for a moment, clearly considering the idea, and then she shrugs. “Maybe, but I think I’ll keep my options open.”

The bartender walks by and Clarke leans over the bar to catch his attention. “Two more shots!” she yells, and he nods in understanding.

“You’re not messing around tonight, are you?” Raven asks, but there’s a devilish smirk on her face and Clarke matches it ten-fold. “There’s the Clarke Griffin we all know and love!” And then Raven leans across the bar to catch the bartender’s attention again and yells, “Make it four!”

Clarke laughs out loud and there’s a permanent smile etched into her face, her cheeks already growing warm with the previous shots circulating her system. It’s her last night of spring break as a college student, and she intends to make it a truly (un)memorable one.

The bartender slides the four shots over to them and they swallow those ones as expertly as the first ones, but Clarke feels the burn of it this time and winces a little bit after the fourth. She swallows the aftertaste and slams the shot glass back down on the bar, beating Raven by half a second.

“Let’s go dance!” Raven cheers, grabbing Clarke’s wrist and pulling her toward the dance floor.

“Just a sec!” Clarke resists, pulling her hand away. Raven looks insulted, but Clarke just puts her finger up and pulls out her phone. Still no Lexa. She types out a quick text and then returns the phone to her picket, then grabs the wrist of a pouting Raven and pulls her out onto the dance floor.

 

\-----

 

“Oh my god, Anya,” Lexa sighs from the doorframe of Anya’s bedroom. “You are the slowest person I’ve ever met.” 

Anya just rolls her eyes as she threads her arms through a leather jacket and pushes past Lexa. “Oh, calm your shit. Your girlfriend will still be there even if we’re a little late.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Lexa says defensively and follows Anya out.

“Uh huh,” is all that Anya offers as a response. “I’m driving,” she states, and then leads the way out of the apartment. Lexa follows close behind and then climbs into the passenger seat of Anya’s black dodge charger.

“Remind me again why I’m bringing you with me?” Lexa clarifies as Anya backs out of the parking space.

“Because,” Anya begins, “I have yet to meet Clarke and she needs my stamp of approval before this continues any further.”

“You said you liked her after you drunkenly called her that night.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“You just want to embarrass me some more.”

“Fucking absolutely.”

Lexa groans but she smiles, because Anya is the overprotective big sister that she never had but somehow acquired anyway. She takes the opportunity to pull her phone out of her pocket and let Clarke know that they’re on their way, but she finds that she already has a text message from the blonde waiting for her.

**Clarke (10:16 pm): Find me on the dance floor.**

 

\----

 

It’s hot. 

It’s really fucking hot on the dance floor with bodies moving all around her and Raven dancing in front of her. The tequila isn’t helping either, because it really does make her clothes fall off, but she’s not about to strip in the middle of this dance floor. Clarke decides to abandon the flannel that she chose to wear (Octavia convinced her to wear it instead of a jacket for this exact reason), and ties it around her waist.

She catches Octavia smirking at her from across the dance floor, obviously gloating over the fact that she had been right. She had told Clarke she’d get hot once they got to the bar, but she didn’t listen. Clarke just shakes her head and laughs, something that she knows Octavia interprets as “you were right,” and continues dancing.

There’s a guy who’s been lingering close to Raven and Clarke for the past few songs, his wandering eyes tracing Clarke’s frame too obviously, too hungrily. Clarke’s used to it though; she kind of has to be. It’s not her fault she was born with curves, or the fact that puberty had been generous to her. Raven keeps the guy in check, thwarting his advances each time he tries to dance over to Clarke. It becomes a game before long, except that he seems to think it’s funny and Clarke and Raven are starting to get annoyed.

When the song ends, Raven turns around to face Clarke, pulling her hair back in a mock ponytail with her hand. The other hand fans her face, trying to form some kind of breeze in this sauna of a dance floor.

“I’m gonna go grab a beer. You want one?” Raven calls just before the next song begins. Clarke nods as the music takes over the conversation again, and Raven just nods before turning to head back to the bar. Clarke begins dancing again, swinging her hips and raising her arms above her head, smirking when she notices Octavia dancing on Lincoln a few feet away.

When she feels someone’s hands on her hips, she only bristles a little bit. It’s a bar and she’s dancing and she’s dancing alone, so why wouldn’t someone approach her for a dance? But then she feels the length of the person’s front mold against her back and someone’s mouth close to her ear and it makes her skin crawl. She launches herself forward out of the stranger’s arms, just in time to turn around and see the guy from earlier staring at her with a satisfied smirk on his face.

Clarke just rolls her eyes and pushes through the crowd toward Octavia and Lincoln, putting as much distance between her and this creep as she can possibly manage. Somehow though, he doesn’t get the hint, and reaches for her arm and wraps his fingers around her wrist to pull her back.

Clarke braces, clenching her fist and resisting the pull. If her eyes were normally the blue of calm ocean, there’s a typhoon swirling around in them now, dark and threatening.

“Oh, come on,” the guy releases her hand and raises both his hands up innocently, but that asshole of a grin never leaves his face. “Just one dance?”

A mixture of emotions boils in her stomach, some combination of disgust and annoyance, and it’s about to erupt all over this guy like the lavas of Pompeii.

Except-

Except then there’s a hand on her hip and then a body stepping in front of her, effectively providing a blockade between Clarke and this creep.

“Do we have a problem here?” Lexa growls, and even with the loud music and echoing bass, there is no misunderstanding her words. There’s no question about the message she’s putting across, verbal and otherwise.

And all of a sudden this guy’s demeanor changes. The smirk on his face falls and settles into a hard line, his eyebrows furrow together, and his jaw sets hard and stern. It’s nothing compared to the look on Lexa’s face though, and their eyes meet like swords trying to dig into one another’s flesh.

“Fuck off, we were just having a good time,” the guy says, waving his hand like Lexa could be batted away like a bothersome gnat. He tries to push past her and make his way to Clarke, but Lexa takes one single step forward to block him again.

“That’s not what it looked like, Emerson, and you fucking know it.”

Some moment of realization appears and Clarke (who has been trying to catch up to what’s actually going on here) knows that this isn’t just Lexa addressing some creep in a bar. Lexa knows this guy. He’s a local, and the way he looks Lexa up and down with a sneer on his face turns Clarke’s blood cold.

“Go find another slut to dance with, Lexa. I found this one first.”

Clarke knew before the sentence came out of his mouth that this wasn’t good. The moment the word “slut” slipped past his lips, she saw Lexa’s fingers curl into fists. She saw a muscle in her neck grow tense and her jaw clench. It’s like she could physically see Lexa trying to restrain herself, and if Clarke had been able to see Lexa’s eyes, she was sure she would see nothing short of a forest fire there.

So she reaches forward, not knowing what else to do but knowing that she has to do something. She places a hand on Lexa’s bicep and steps toward her, and then past her, putting herself now between Lexa and this guy named Emerson.

“You’ve been a total fucking creep all night, and Lexa might have the self-restraint to not kick your ass, but I definitely don’t.” Clarke can feel Lexa’s hand on her hip again and then she steps up next to her. Emerson’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of them, not knowing who to deal with. Then his eyes look past them, looking at something behind them and he shakes his head, knowing this battle is lost.

“What the fuck ever,” he says, throwing his hands up in frustration and defeat. He turns around and walks straight off the dance floor. Clarke grins victoriously, watching him until he disappears from her sight.

“You okay?” Lexa asks, with her mouth suddenly close to Clarke’s ear to make sure that she can hear. It surprises Clarke and makes her jump, but she smiles and nods gratefully. Lexa returns the smile sheepishly. Clarke reaches for her hand and squeezes it before motioning toward the bar. Lexa nods and they both turn to head off the dance floor.

But when they turn around, there they find Lincoln, Octavia, Anya, and Raven all watching them with raised eyebrows, standing in the middle of the dance floor like a defensive line.

Now Clarke knows what Emerson had been looking at behind them. 

Clarke almost feels embarrassed, and she knows that if her face weren’t already red with alcohol and dancing, it sure as hell would be now. She and Lexa exchange a glance and awkward smiles, and then turn back to their friends with a shrug. The ensemble just shakes their heads and laughs before Clarke and Lexa lead the way to the bar, where the music isn’t so loud and actual conversation can be held.

 

\-----

 

“That guy was a creep all night. He kept bothering Raven and me, and then Raven _left_ me–“

“FIVE MINUTES, CLARKE! I left you for five minutes! Lincoln and Octavia were right there!” Raven interjects, practically launching herself across the table the six friends have piled themselves into on the opposite side of the bar. They had opted to take a break from the dance floor and borrow one of the booths from the “restaurant” side of the bar. Lincoln and Anya were curious to know the whole story of what had happened with Emerson.

“Right. Anyway, after Raven _left me_ ,” Clarke continues, laughing at the way Raven sits back in her seat and glares back at her. “He just kept being a persistent son of a bitch and wouldn’t leave me alone. Enter Lexa.”

A smile spreads across her face as she says Lexa’s name, like it always does. It’s actually becoming a ridiculous habit, Raven has pointed out. But she looks over at Lexa who has a timid smile on her face, barely there but still present, and squeezes her knee.

“That’s Lexa,” Anya says, raising her drink and taking a sip. “Who says chivalry is dead when Lexa still exists in the world?”

That earns Anya a glare from Lexa and Anya smirks around the rim of her glass, raising her eyebrows in a playful shrug. Lincoln chuckles alongside her. 

“Do you remember the time Lexa got kicked out of her hockey game because one of her teammates got put in the penalty box over something the other team did?” Lincoln asks, and everyone stares back at him blankly until Anya laughs out loud, and then they realize the question had been aimed at Anya.

“Oh my god, yes! She got in an argument with the ref and told him that maybe he should let her ref the game so he could go back home and play with his smurf figurines!”

Anya and Lincoln laugh over the memory while Lexa glares back at them, even though there’s a smile stretched across her face. Clarke laughs too, imagining a younger version of Lexa who still didn’t know what to make of this new family she’d been thrown into, but still trying to stand up for what was right and just.

Raven and Octavia just exchange glances though, Raven with her eyebrows gathered in confusion and Octavia avoiding her to look back and forth between Lincoln and Anya.

“So,” Octavia finally interjects, effectively ceasing the laughter as everyone’s eyes fall on her. “You two know each other?” She motions between Anya and Lincoln, not accusingly, just… curiously.

“Yeah, we all do,” Anya says, gesturing toward Lincoln and Lexa. “Lincoln and I went to high school together.

Then Clarke gets confused too, and looks at Lexa.

“But you didn’t act like you knew Lincoln when you were both at the party?” she questions.

Lexa shrugs. “Lincoln was older than me and I was only in the same school as him for one year before he graduated. I didn’t know if he’d remember me.”

“Are you kidding?” Lincoln demands. “First off, I would’ve said hi to you after you finished kicking my ass in beer pong, but then you and Clarke disappeared upstairs and I wasn’t about to insert myself into that situation.”

Lexa blushes. Clarke smirks. Everybody notices.

“Second, everyone in this town knows of Lexa and her legendary hockey skills.” Lexa smiles smugly, obviously proud of her reputation. Lincoln shakes his head at her and then looks at the rest of the table. “No, seriously. This whole town knows who Lexa is.”

And then everyone grows quiet, because nobody knows what to say after that. While Lincoln had meant it innocently and even positively, Lexa has become all too painfully aware of how everyone in this town knows exactly who she is, and now more than ever she wishes that they didn’t. Clarke feels that awkward wave pass over the table, as everyone takes the opportunity to pour more alcohol down their throats or check their phones or just plainly try to avoid the conversation.

“So, Clarke.” It’s Anya who breaks the silence after downing more than half of a Jack and coke. So that’s where Lexa gets it. “I hear you and Lexa had sex.”

Anya must have purposely waited for Lexa to tip back her drink, because she said the statement mid-gulp. Lexa nearly convulses trying to keep herself from spitting her drink all over the table, glaring the most threatening glare at Anya that she can possibly muster. The entire table erupts into laughter, including Clarke, who puts a hand on Lexa’s back and starts to rub circles there.

When Lexa finally manages to swallow the liquid and is no longer in any direct danger of spewing Jack and spit all over everyone, she puts an elbow on the table and points sharply at Anya.

“Anya. Don’t.”

But Anya just smirks back at her and it amazes Clarke how much of Raven that she sees in Anya. When she glances over at Raven, she sees a similar expression on her face. God is she loving it. Clarke definitely feels Lexa’s pain.

Then Anya turns back to Clarke. “Was she good?”

“Oh my god.” Lexa drops her head to the table and groans, willing herself to sink into the bench of their booth and never return.

Even Clarke’s eyes get a little wider and she can feel the warmth creeping into her cheeks. She dodges Anya’s gaze like the plague, which only eggs her on.

“I’m pretty sure she was good,” someone says, and everyone’s a little confused when they realize it was Raven who said it. Even Lexa rolls her head to the side to look at her questioningly. But Raven just shrugs, as if it’s the most nonchalant thing in the world to be discussing her best friend and her sex life in the middle of a bar. “We all heard you guys the whole fucking night. It’s not like it was a secret. I would sure as hell hope she was good!”

The table breaks into laughter again, except for Lexa (who rolls her forehead back onto the table) and Clarke (who clenches her jaw and shoots daggers at her so-called best friend).

“You guys _were_ pretty loud,” Octavia says through bits of laughter.

“Oh please,” Raven adds. “The only time I could hear them was when the two of you–” She motions at Octavia and Lincoln. “–took a break to change positions.”

This time it’s Lincoln turn to look down at his hands with embarrassment, but Octavia seems entirely unfazed.

“Best sex ever. I ain’t even sorry.”

 

\-----

 

After several more embarrassing stories about Clarke’s sex life (thanks, Raven) and Lexa’s attempts at changing the topic away from Clarke and herself (to no avail), Clarke and Lexa have finally managed to be the only ones remaining in the booth. Octavia and Lincoln had agreed to return to the dance floor and Anya and Raven had gone off to the bar to replenish their drinks. Now they’re simply leaning against the bar, arguing over some trivial topic.

But Lexa doesn’t really care where any of them are at the moment, because Clarke is sitting next to her and she’s laughing with her head tossed back and her eyes closed because of a story about Anya in high school. And Lexa doesn’t care who’s around or where she is or what time it is, because she would be perfectly content to stay in this moment while the rest of the world goes on without her, just as long as Clarke keeps laughing like this.

When Clarke does finally open her eyes and the laughter wears off, Lexa realizes that she’s staring at her with a dopey ass grin on her face, but she can’t bring herself to look away. Clarke just stares back at her, her eyes dancing back and forth between Lexa’s, darting down to glance at her lips every couple of seconds, a content smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

“What?” Clarke finally asks. Lexa just shakes her head, the smile never leaving her lips. She reaches forward and tucks a strand of blonde hair behind Clarke’s ear, lingering there longer than she needs to. Her thumb strays across her cheekbone, and Clarke leans into it.

“I’m sorry about what happened with Emerson,” Lexa finally says quietly, looking away timidly, like she’s afraid that Clarke will disappear if she stares at her too long.

“What?” Clarke asks, staring back at Lexa incredulously, but Lexa doesn’t meet her gaze. She reaches up and pulls Lexa’s hand away from her face and squeezes it, holding it between both her hands in her lap. “Lexa, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I’m grateful for what you did.”

Lexa does finally meet Clarke’s eyes, wide and concerned and so _blue_. It almost makes her forget the anger that had threatened to launch her fists into Emerson’s jaw. And this newfound doubt in her self-restraint? It makes her unbearably nervous. The brunette has never been a stranger to anger. She and her anger had become well acquainted over the years, bouncing from foster home to foster home, trying to stay positive, trying to believe that it would get better. Each time that life let her down, her anger remained, steady and true and reliable.

However, over the last decade or so, anger had become an old friend she’d left behind. Sure, she had her moments – everybody does. But after her foster parents had taken her in, life started to make sense. For the most part. Life doesn’t ever really make total sense, right?

But she had never lost herself inside her rage. She had never let it consume her and drive her body on its own, without rational thought or consideration for the consequences. She hadn’t, at least, until the night she beat Roan’s face in, when her old friend decided to make an appearance like a charging bull. Ever since then, that anger feels superficial, simmering just beneath her skin until the heat rises and it can boil over.

And that? The feeling that she’s losing control? That terrifies her.

“I’m not an angry person, Clarke,” she says quietly, not looking away this time.

“I know that,” Clarke responds, her brows pinching together in confusion.

“But it scares me that that kind of anger lives in me, and ever since Roan, I just feel like it’s always there.” She pauses, taking a moment to collect herself and keep the walls from coming up and ending this conversation. Clarke strokes her thumb across the back of her hand absent-mindedly, waiting for her to continue.

“I stepped in to protect you,” Lexa says, her voice barely above a whisper. Clarke has to lean forward to make the words out clearly. “But you ended up protecting me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being protected, Lexa,” Clarke says, a smile pulling at the edge of the lips as her heart melts for the girl in front of her. In most situations, Lexa comes off as this confident young woman with more charm and chivalry than should be humanly possible. However, behind her walls, Clarke sees an entirely different side. She sees the girl who grew up believing that nobody loved nor wanted her, and the girl who had only herself to count on. “It’s okay to let people help you sometimes.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

Clarke fixes her with a stare that has Lexa convinced that it’s true, even though she has no idea how she knows it to be true. Her reflexes tell her to argue and instinct tells her to deny, deny, deny everything that Clarke says, but the way that Clarke is still brushing her thumb across the back of her hand has made it hard for Lexa to form words anyway.

Since no words come to mind, Lexa does the only thing she knows how to do and leans forward, pressing her lips against Clarke’s softly. The kiss is quiet and slow, like watching a leaf slip from its branch and float silently to the ground. It makes Clarke stop breathing, so much that when Lexa pulls away, she gasps for breath.

“Thank you,” Lexa says quietly, pressing her forehead lightly against Clarke’s. The blonde doesn’t say anything in return, just smiles and closes her eyes. Lexa takes the moment to appreciate this girl in front of her who has taught her more in the last week than she ever thought possible. Without thinking about it, she pulls away just enough to press a kiss to Clarke’s forehead.

“You’re such a sap,” Clarke finally says, a teasing grin stretched across her face. Lexa matches it, the loud music and drunken crowd finally popping the bubble the two girls had created inside the booth.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the chivalry alive,” Lexa responds with a shrug, and then turns to lift herself out of the booth. She turns around and offers a hand to Clarke, who takes it willingly. Once she’s on her feet, she’s immediately pulling Lexa back to the crowd of drunken dancers.

“I think someone needs to show Octavia and Lincoln how to properly grind on the dance floor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS!
> 
> First off, I know it's been a long time. Again, sorry about that. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Coming back to this story was the breath of fresh air away from school work that I needed. I'm going to try *TRY* to update monthly from here on out. Getting back into the swing of school this semester was pretty challenging, but I think I've got my time managed well and should be able to handle a chapter a month. But you know, life happens sometimes.
> 
> As always, I love and look forward to your comments/feedback/critiques! Thanks for sticking with me <3


	13. Chapter 13

The rest of the night passes by in a drunken blur of flashing lights and searing liquor. Clarke doesn’t know how many shots of tequila she’s had, but Jose Cuervo would probably tip his hat to her. Anya has to physically insert herself between Octavia and Lincoln at one point, or else they probably would have had sex right there on the dance floor. Raven behaves for the most part, except for the time she disappears without telling anyone. Lincoln and Lexa had panicked for a moment, but Clarke and Octavia traded knowing glances and then found her outside smoking a cigarette and socializing.

When the bartender announces last call, the group of friends down one final shot of their choosing, and then stumble their way outside. Lexa drapes her arm across Clarke’s shoulders as Clarke wraps her arms around her waist, using Lexa to prop herself up more than she’s proud to admit.

“I’m driving!” Anya cheers, thrusting her keys into the air while simultaneously hitting the unlock button on her remote. The yellow blinkers of her car flash from across the parking lot.

“Like hell you are,” Lincoln responds, casually plucking the keys from her hand. Anya spins on her heel with the reflexes of an intoxicated kitten.

“Since when you do you tell me what to do?” she retorts, laying a fist into his thick bicep. Lincoln probably wouldn’t feel it even if Anya had put all her weight behind it, but the alcohol makes her significantly less threatening.

“Since you were supposed to DD but got wasted anyway. Where’s your sense of responsibility?” Lincoln chastises, a grin on his face. Anya rolls her eyes dramatically, finally reaching her car and resting against the bumper. She folds her arms across her chest. The rest of the group approaches, Octavia with her arm around Lincoln and Clarke hovering close to Lexa and Raven focused on her cell phone as she requests an uber.

“I must have left it at home with my moral compass,” Anya mutters.

“I can drive. I’m really not drunk,” Lexa offers, stepping forward to take the keys from Lincoln. As she steps forward, Clarke can feel the pout already forming on her drunken face and she grabs Lexa’s wrist.

“I thought you were coming home with me,” she slurs.

“Oh, so you were gonna ditch me for the girl! Is that how it is, Lex?” Anya exaggerates. “Where is the loyalty?”

“Loyalty? You were the one who was supposed to stay sober and drive me home safely,” Lexa remarks, eyebrow raised and smirk on her face. “I’m the one who has to be responsible in this family.”

“Our uber is here!” Raven announces, oblivious to the conversation going on around her.

“Just bring Anya back with us,” Clarke suggests, trying to pull Lexa back to her.

“I’ll drive Anya home,” Lincoln says. Octavia shoots him a disappointed look, but Lincoln quenches it quickly. “And then come back to your place.”

“How? You can’t walk!” Octavia retorts.

“It’s not that far!”

“It’s late!”

Then Lincoln and Octavia dig into an argument about how Anya will get home. Lexa tries to offer to drive her home again, but Clarke quickly squashes that suggestion and tells Lexa to just have Anya come back to her place with the rest of them. Anya and Raven just watch the scene unfold in front of them, suddenly wondering how they became the only single people in this group.

“Here’s a crazy thought,” Raven announces. “How about we all take the uber and we can stop by Lexa and Anya’s place, and whoever wants to get out there can do so, and then the uber can take the rest of us to our house? Does that sound reasonable?”

Raven looks from person to person with wide eyes and a shit-eating grin on her face as if her idea were much larger than common sense, but it seems to appease the crowd because suddenly people are smiling and nodding.

“This is why you’re the genius,” Octavia says.

“No, this is why I’m sober.” Raven counters. “Candlewick’s here to pick us up.”

 

\-----

 

“Clarke, come back to bed,” Lexa grumbles, kneeling beside the blonde on the floor.

Getting the group back to Clarke’s house had been easier said than done. Clarke had gotten sick halfway home and Wick had to pull over twice to let her throw up on the side of the road, then a third time for Octavia. Lincoln and Lexa just exchanged exasperated glances in the backseat. When had they started seeing such lightweights? Meanwhile, Raven had only taken pictures from the front seat, cackling proudly.

Once back to the house, Lexa practically carried Clarke up the stairs to her bedroom. She undressed her and got her into pajamas, helped her brush her teeth, and got the makeup off her face. She had tucked her into bed and then went to the bathroom to take off her own makeup. When she came back into the bedroom, she found Clarke curled up on the floor.

“Can’t move,” Clarke groans, her arms wrapped around her midsection and knees pulled into her chest. Lexa sighs, rubbing circles into the space between Clarke’s shoulder blades. She felt for the girl, she really did. Everyone had been in her place once or twice, and Lexa had been there more than most.

“Shhh, okay. Hang on,” Lexa coos, moving to get off the floor. Clarke groans in protest, but Lexa just presses a light kiss to her cheek. “I’m just going to grab us some pillows and blankets, okay?”

She doesn’t move until Clarke nods, and then quickly pulls all the blankets and pillows off Clarke’s queen-size bed. She drapes the comforter across Clarke’s body and then tucks a pillow underneath her head. Clarke quickly burrows down into the blanket, pulling it up under her chin and sinking down into the pillow. Lexa moves across the room to turn the light off, and then settles on the floor beside Clarke, suddenly feeling awkward and unsure. Lexa’s buzz had already started to wane on the uber drive back here, and then died completely when Clarke started to feel sick. Now she finds herself lying beside the drunken blonde and not knowing how to act or how close she’s allowed to be. So she just lies on her back, her hands folded across her abdomen, just close enough to feel Clarke beside her.

Just as Lexa’s about to fall asleep, she hears her phone vibrate on the nightstand. She extracts herself from the blankets and sees a phone call from an unknown number, and for whatever god forsaken reason decides to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Lexa?”

A chill runs down her spine and sinks right into the pit of her stomach, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

“Costia?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

“Sorry, I had to remember your number from memory. This was my third try,” Costia explains, her words coming out hurried and a little slurred. “Look, Lex, I don’t have a lot of time. Roan just stepped out. I just want to say sorry, for everything. I know that probably doesn’t mean a lot to you now, but I am and I want you to know I’m trying to convince him not to press charges.”

Costia’s voice trails off, and Lexa is too focused on trying not to throw up or cry or yell to actually say anything back to her.

“I know this is fucked up. I know. I’m trying to fix it.”

The line goes silent again. Lexa can hear Costia’s breath through the phone. She tries to imagine where Costia is: some house party where Roan stepped outside for a smoke? Roan’s bedroom while Roan’s in the bathroom? Her own room? Lexa tries not to think about it, tries to form rational thoughts in her head.

“Try harder.”

They’re the only two words that she can get out of her throat before she feels like throwing up again. Costia sighs; Lexa imagines her running her hands through her hair like she always does when she’s frustrated. It makes her want to ram her head against the wall.

“I am. I will,” she says quietly. “I should go before he comes back. And Lex?”

“What?” she chokes out. _Don’t call me Lex_ , she wants to say.

“Thanks,” Costia replies, her voice soft and sincere, so much like Lexa remembers from when they were friends, so much like the girl she used to love with her whole heart. “For what you did.”

Lexa doesn’t know how to respond. She feels her brain short-circuit for a moment as a multitude of emotions courses through her body like poison: anger, disbelief, sadness. She wants to tell Costia to go fuck herself, wants to tell her that her life is ruined because of her. She wants to tell her she would do it all over again, that she doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, and that Roan is the absolute scum of the earth. The biggest part of her doesn’t know what the fuck to say.

“Shit, I have to go.”

The line goes dead.

Lexa stands there in the dark of Clarke’s room, phone still pressed to her ear as she hears the three beeps signaling the end of the call. Her body shakes, but she can’t tell if it’s from the cold or the conversation that just took place. She doesn’t know what to do, so she does the only thing she can do. She puts the phone back on the nightstand and then crawls back under the blankets, lying flat on her back beside Clarke still curled up on her side, back to Lexa.

“Lexa?” she hears Clarke whisper after a few minutes, and then Clarke rolls over, her hand searching for Lexa in the darkness. Lexa feels her warm fingertips wrap around her bicep, realizing then that her entire body is stiff as a board and all her muscles are clenched with tension. Clarke inches herself closer, the warmth of her body finally reaching Lexa beneath the blankets, but Lexa can’t move.

“You’re shaking,” Clarke mumbles, maybe a little more awake now but still drunk and groggy, still not entirely aware. Lexa feels Clarke move even closer, trying to comfort her or keep her warm or whatever, but Lexa still can’t move. When Clarke nuzzles entirely into her side, she drifts back off to sleep and Lexa finds herself with her thoughts yet again.

And her thoughts are just reminding her over and over again: this is what happens when you get close to people. This is what happens when you let people in. This is why you’re better off alone. That voice inside her head tells her that she needs to run, that she needs to protect herself. It tells her that Clarke will only bring that same kind of heartache into her life. It tells her that Clarke is better off without her anyway. It tells her that she should leave right now.

Lexa considers it. God, does she consider it. She imagines peeling herself out of Clarke’s warm grip and escaping back to the comfort of her own cold apartment. It would be easy; after all, she had gotten pretty good at it in all of her experience. Clarke wouldn’t even notice she had left.

However, she could not in good conscience leave this girl sleeping on her floor knowing how drunk and sick she had been tonight. No, she couldn’t just leave her here to choke on her own vomit in the middle of the night. Plus, the thought of Clarke waking up by herself on the floor fully expecting Lexa to be there next to her is too unbearable. Clarke doesn’t deserve that. Lexa can tough it out for this one night. Clarke does deserve that.

 

\-----

 

“Fuck tequila,” Clarke mumbles as consciousness begins to come back to her. Her body refuses to move, sore and tired from the night of heavy liquor and sleeping on the hard floor. Her eyelids slowly peel away from her eyes, the sunlight too weak to worsen her headache, before opening them completely.

“Why are you so far away?” she asks, voice more clear but still thick with sleep, when she finds Lexa lying on her back a few feet away, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. She reaches out for her, brushing her fingers against her forearm.

Lexa turns her head to look at her, a smile creasing the edges of her lips, but Clarke notices how it doesn’t reach her eyes. It seems sad.

“I got hot,” Lexa responds with practiced nonchalance, throwing in a casual shrug for good measure. Clarke nods once, noticing a sort of tension between them, something that tells her not to move closer to the brunette even though she wants to. She settles for brushing her thumb against Lexa’s forearm instead, her blue eyes searching those troubled green ones like rain falling in the forest.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” Clarke whispers, embarrassed. Maybe that’s why Lexa seems so distant this morning. “I didn’t mean to get that drunk.”

“It’s totally okay,” Lexa answers with a shake of her head and even a small smile. “I have seen much worse, I promise you.”

Clarke nods again, once, her throat thick with the rigidity between them. She stops drawing circles on Lexa’s arm, the insecurity overwhelming her, and retracts her hand back into her body. It makes Lexa’s chest tight, but Clarke doesn’t see it behind the façade she’s adopted, the one that Costia’s phone call had only reinforced ten-fold.

“Thanks for taking care of me though,” Clarke says, finally looking away. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Clarke. I was happy to do it.”

Awkward silence falls over them again. Lexa’s only excuse to stay had been Clarke’s drunken state. With that excuse gone, she can feel her body itching to get out of this room and away from Clarke, even though she doesn’t want to. She wants the comfort and safety of her own space to process Costia’s phone call and all the thoughts that have raced through her mind since then. She wishes she could find that comfort here within the proximity of Clarke’s embrace. She wishes she could confide the truth in her.

But she can’t.

“I should probably go,” she states, her gaze turning back up to the ceiling. She feels Clarke’s eyes staring into the side of her face, willing her to look back at her, but she doesn’t.

“Okay,” Clarke finally allows, defeated. That one word says so much about Clarke’s feelings. Lexa can feel the confusion and disappointment dripping from it like a radioactive slime. Lexa knows she should explain, knows that she should take care of that confusion. She should tell Clarke that it’s not about her, that she would love to stay, that she would if she weren’t such a fucking mess, and that Clarke did nothing wrong.

Instead, she gets up without a word and goes into the bathroom to change back into her jeans. Clarke’s mind races with every possible thing that could have gone wrong, but all she can come up with is that Lexa is someone who hooks up a lot. Maybe she just lost interest after they had sex. Maybe they were both wrong and Clarke was just another face in a crowd of faceless women.

When Lexa comes back out of the bathroom, they don’t make eye contact even though Clarke silently begs for Lexa to look at her. Instead, Lexa walks smoothly to the nightstand, picks up her phone and tucks it into her pocket, and then heads for the door.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” she says out of a moment of weakness. She pauses at the doorframe and looks back at Clarke. She seems so small under her queen-size comforter in the middle of her bedroom floor.

“Okay,” Clarke replies, unconvinced. She doesn’t even bother to look up, and Lexa wonders if this is the last time she will ever see her, though some part of her hopes that it’s not. She doesn’t bother saying anything else, and closes the door behind her.

 

\-----

 

Lexa clenches her jaw so tightly that it makes her ears ring. The minute she gets home, all she wants to do is lay her fist into something hard and sturdy. She wants to destroy. She wants to take out on the rest of the world what the world has taken out on her. Lexa never asked to be born into a world where her parents didn’t want nor care her for. She didn’t ask to be brought into this stupid fucking town. She didn’t ask to fall in love with a girl who didn’t give two shits about her.

She didn’t ask for any of this.

All Lexa wants to do is survive. Go to work, pay her bills, have a roof over her head, and maybe not die. She would be content for the rest of the world to ignore her for the rest of her life if it just meant that she could live in peace, even if that meant she were alone forever.

But the world doesn’t work that way and Lexa knows that it doesn’t, and while the temptation to crush some drywall beneath her fist grows exponentially by the second, she also knows that Anya would lose the deposit on the place if she gives into it. So instead of letting that anger that seems to be ever present in her life take control, she does the next best thing and picks up her guitar.

The chords are sloppy and harsh, the progressions completely off tempo and erratic, but somehow it makes sense. Somehow it speaks to her, because all of that anger bleeds into her fingertips instead of her fists.

It sounds awful, to be completely honest. Anybody overhearing it would think that Lexa has no idea what she’s doing as she plays off-key and off-tempo, purposely placing a finger one fret too high or too low or making a string buzz offensively. She strums harder, picks at the strings forcefully, dragging the sound out of the instrument like a loose tooth that’s not ready to come out.

Lexa gets lost in it, drowns herself in the distorted notes, and plays until her thoughts stop bouncing against the walls of her skull.

“Do you have any idea what fucking time it is?!” Anya bellows, throwing Lexa’s bedroom door open so forcefully that it makes Lexa jump. She strums down harshly and catches the bottom string too hard and it snaps, ricocheting up into her face. The fine wire bites into her cheek, leaving an angry red welt in its wake.

“Motherfu–” Lexa groans, her hand flying to her cheek. Anya stares at her incredulously, the annoyance etched so apparently into her tired features. Nonetheless, she crosses the room to stand in front of Lexa, pulls the guitar from her grip, and then places a finger beneath her chin to observe the damage to her face.

“I swear to god, I love you, Lex, but you have got to let a woman sleep,” Anya growls, tracing the indent of the string on Lexa’s cheek. Blood begins to seep out in little dots, like that of a paper cut. “How long has it been since you changed your strings?”

“I don’t know,” Lexa retorts coldly. Anya stares at her open-mouthed, and then rolls her eyes before disappearing into Lexa’s bathroom. She returns seconds later with hydrogen peroxide and a cotton ball.

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s just a scratch.” Lexa turns her face away from Anya.

“I don’t give a shit,” Anya bites back, eyebrows rising to her hairline. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”

Anya moves to stand in front of Lexa again, forcing her to turn her face forward so that she can clean the cut on her cheek. Lexa doesn’t respond, just keeps her jaw clenched and Anya doesn’t miss the vein popping at her temple. Anya spends more time dabbing the cotton ball over the thin red line than she needs to, not knowing what to say but aware that something is definitely wrong.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she finally asks, her voice less harsh.

“No.”

“Is it about Clarke?”

“No.”

“Did something happen last night?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Lexa warns, pulling her face out of Anya’s hands.

“Okay,” Anya continues cautiously, moving to throw away the cotton ball and put the hydrogen peroxide back into the bathroom. “Well, why’d you come back so early? You do know it’s like barely after 7, right?”

“I just wanted to come home, Anya.”

“Right.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m not doing anything.” Anya raises her hands innocently. Lexa rolls her eyes.

“You know exactly what you’re doing,” Lexa grumbles, her resolve slowly crumbling. She stares down at her hands, picking at her fingernails even though there’s nothing there. Anya sits down on the bed beside her, far enough away to not touch her but close enough that Lexa knows she’s there.

“I just want you to know you can talk to me.”

“I know I can.”

Anya doesn’t say anything, allowing the silence to fill the small room. She’s been through this enough times with Lexa to know what it takes for her to open up. Her mind will kick into overdrive until she has so many thoughts that she can’t contain them, and Anya will be there when she needs someone to confide in. She always is. After ten long minutes, Lexa finally lets out a sigh of defeat.

“Costia called last night.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Anya deadpans.

“Yeah, after I got back to Clarke’s.”

“Does Clarke know about all of that?”

Lexa nods, and then corrects herself. “Well, she knows about Costia and that whole… situation. She doesn’t know that Costia called last night.”

Anya nods, starting to understand. “What did she say?”

“Clarke? Or Costia?”

“Both, actually.”

Lexa sighs, drawing her legs up underneath her so that she sits cross-legged on her bed. She balances her elbows on her knees and drops her head into her hands, fingertips pressing into her temples.

“Clarke was great… Even Octavia and Raven were great when they found out. They defended me–”

“As they should!”

“Costia, though… I don’t know, Ahn. I don’t know what to do with my brain.”

“What did she say to you, Lexa?” Anya’s voice drops lower, becoming more stern, like the mother bear responsible for protecting her cub. She places a hand on Lexa’s knee for comfort, but Lexa barely notices it.

“She said she’s sorry for everything, that she’s trying to convince Roan to drop the charges. She thanked me for what I did.”

Anya breathes in deeply and then lets it out slowly before wrapping an arm around Lexa’s shoulders. “Wow. Well, that’s a lot. What did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“What was I supposed to say?!” Lexa finally feels the last bits of her resolve crumble, making way for the flood of emotions she’s been wrestling with. She turns to look at her sister, eyes wide and pained. “Was I just supposed to forgive her? Was I supposed to tell her to go fuck herself? Accept her thanks for putting her boyfriend in the hospital?”

Anya stares back at Lexa, who seems more broken now than she did as the unwanted twelve-year-old girl who came to live with her family all those years ago. Anya didn’t grow to love Lexa right away; her parents took in fosters pretty often and they always left eventually. She learned not to get attached. But Lexa was different. The day that she saw two girls bullying her at the bus stop for her old, torn-up sneakers, Anya felt a fierce urge to protect the younger girl. She took her to the mall after school that day and bought her brand new pair of shoes, and Lexa’s face lit up with so much gratitude that it made Anya’s heart swell. It was clear that nobody had cared about her enough to do something so selfless for her, and Anya swore that she would always make sure Lexa knew how much she cared.

“You have such a big heart, Lex. You don’t let people into it easily, but you protect those few people so fiercely. You want to fix everything and I know that you care for Costia, but she got herself into this mess and then dragged you down with her,” Anya says, trying to soothe Lexa by rubbing circles into her back, but it only makes Lexa feel more weak so she stands up from the bed, folding her arms across her chest.

“She didn’t make me do anything. I attacked Roan.”

“He was hurting someone you cared about and you were drunk.”

“That doesn’t make it right.”

“Listen to me,” Anya says, adopting the best mom-voice Lexa has ever heard. She places her hands on Lexa’s shoulders and doesn’t continue until Lexa meets her eyes. “You made a mistake, but believe it or not, you are actually human. People make mistakes. Anybody who knows what really happened at that party knows that you are not the one at fault here. That’s why Roan had to make up a lie to cover his ass. That’s why Costia called you last night. That’s why Clarke-” she squeezes her shoulders, “-isn’t afraid you’ll beat her to a pulp too.”

Lexa flinches, the mention of Clarke reminding her of how sad and confused she sounded when she left her house this morning. The thought of Clarke actually _afraid_ of her makes her nauseous, but she can’t deny the fact that Lexa could hurt her. Hell, she already has.

“Clarke is better off without me.”

 

\-----

 

Clarke falls in and out of sleep for the rest of the morning, not sure if time passes by outside her window and refusing to care whether it does or not. Did Lexa leave ten minutes ago or three hours ago? She doesn’t care. The hangover pelts at her brain relentlessly, constantly reminding her of the night she had before, and she pulls the blankets tightly over her head to block out any penetrating sunlight 

The night plays over and over in her mind, but the edges get fuzzy as the memories progress. She remembers everything clearly until Lexa arrived, and then the shots became more abundant and the night flashes by in snapshots. She remembers dancing, Lexa’s body pressed up against hers, and spending time with her friends. She wonders if the event with Emerson had shaken Lexa, but decides that she would have started acting weird sooner if that were the case. She remembers last call, and then the next thing she knows she’s throwing up on the side of the road. She remembers Lexa carrying her to bed. She remembers falling asleep on the floor.

Then she remembers waking up this morning. Where did it go wrong? It only makes her head hurt worse.

“Clarke?”

A voice calls from the doorway, and Clarke pulls the comforter away from her face to see Raven and Octavia both standing near the doorframe. She merely groans in response and then pulls the blanket back over her eyes.

“Lexa’s not hiding under there too, is she?” Octavia jokes, and it hits Clarke a little harder than it should but she pushes the sting aside.

“She left this morning,” she mumbles. Nobody responds, but a few moments later she feels Raven and Octavia pad over to her makeshift bed on the floor and climb beneath the blanket.

“Why are you sleeping on the floor?” Raven asks, poking Clarke’s shoulder to get her attention. Clarke sighs, knowing that she can’t hide in her room all day and ignore whatever happened this morning.

“I couldn’t get into bed last night, so I slept here, and I just haven’t had the motivation to move yet,” she explains, rolling onto her back and pulling the blankets down once again to meet Raven’s gaze.

“You know it’s like two in the afternoon, right?”

“Hangovers don’t give a fuck what time it is.”

“Lexa must have left pretty early this morning. I didn’t see her leave,” Octavia interjects. Clarke just nods, not sure how to respond and not really wanting to either. “Does she work today?”

Clarke shrugs. “I have no idea.”

Octavia and Raven exchange concerned glances, their eyebrows both bunching in confusion, trying to piece the puzzle together but Clarke doesn’t offer all the pieces. They know to tread lightly; if Clarke wanted to talk about it, she would. But they also aren’t about to let Clarke sulk in her room all day either.

“Did something happen last night?” Raven pushes, leaning up to rest her head on her hand and stare down at Clarke.

Clarke chuckles sharply, almost coldly. “It would seem so.”

Another exchange of glances between Raven and Octavia, and Clarke just continues to stare at the ceiling, searching for patterns in the textured wall. Raven stares at Octavia, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs in uncertainty and shakes her head.

“So… what happened?” Raven asks cautiously.

“I don’t know,” Clarke sighs, bringing her hands up to push the palms of her hands against her closed eyes. “I don’t have the slightest clue. I got so drunk and everything is kind of a blur, and I woke up this morning and she just got up and left without any explanation.”

“The fuck?” Octavia questions, trying not to jump to any conclusions but also knowing that nobody fucks with her friends. She doesn’t know what happened last night; all she knows is Clarke is moping on her bedroom floor and Lexa is to blame. “Have you heard from her?”

Clarke just shakes her head, and Octavia and Raven simultaneously clench their jaws, that urge to protect their friend rearing its head.

“She probably just had to work,” Raven suggests, trying to stay reasonable. She had seen the way Lexa danced with Clarke last night, the way she stayed wrapped around her body every chance she got. She finds it hard to believe that Lexa had simply lost interest, but then again, Lexa did have a tendency. While she doesn’t want to believe Lexa had fooled her judgment, things do not look so good.

“Yeah, or maybe something with the assault charges,” Octavia adds, though it doesn’t seem to make any of them feel any better.

“Or maybe she just got the sex she wanted and took off like the fuckboy she is,” Clarke states, her tone venomous. It tastes sour in her mouth even as she says it because it doesn’t make any sense. They didn’t even have sex last night. Lexa wouldn’t have bothered to stay until morning anyway if that were the case; she would have slipped out while Clarke slept.

“I don’t know, Clarke,” Raven echoes her thoughts. “A fuckboy would sneak out before you woke up.”

“I don’t know what else it could be,” Clarke sighs in defeat. “Did you guys think she was acting weird last night?”

Octavia shrugs, because she had been too engrossed in Lincoln’s attention to pay much mind to the rest of the party. Raven shakes her head adamantly. Despite all the liquor, Raven had held her own pretty well last night and never got too far beyond the realm of buzzed, especially after the situation with Emerson. She stayed ever watchful over her friends.

“That girl is so into you and it’s so fucking obvious to anyone with eyes,” Raven assures.

“Then something must have happened when we got back here but I don’t remember anything after we got back to my room. We just went to sleep.”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation,” Octavia offers, squeezing Clarke’s knee in reassurance. “It’s probably nothing. She’ll probably text you soon and it will just be a big misunderstanding.”

Raven agrees and Clarke nods her head, accepting her friends’ advice but her heart remains unconvinced. A nagging feeling in her chest reminds her of the fact that she’s only known Lexa for a couple days. Even though she wants to believe that she knows Lexa better than that, the truth is that she doesn’t. Lexa could be someone entirely different than the person she thinks she is. It’s possible that Clarke just got played by the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“Whatever,” Clarke finally utters with exhaustion. “I’ve only known her a week. It’s not like she’s the love of my life. You win some, you lose some, right?”

“Fuck yeah,” Raven cheers. “And if she can’t see that you’re the second hottest girl on this whole campus, then fuck that.”

“Second after me, of course,” Octavia claims, a smirk spreading across her face.

“Bitch, please,” Raven retorts with an exaggerated eye-roll. Octavia responds by leaping across Clarke to tackle the brunette, resulting in a complete dog pile with Clarke in the middle.

“What would I ever do without you guys?” she laughs, a genuine smile splitting her face.

“Die.”

“Starve.”

“Dress like a five-year-old.”

“Actually, your life would pretty much suck. Best to keep us around.”

“If I really have to.”

 

\-----

 

Clarke, Raven, and Octavia finish the rest of their day in their happy place: piled on the couch with pizza and watching movies. It’s officially the last day of their spring break and tomorrow means the continuation of their semester and only two months until graduation. The thought makes Clarke excited, but it’s also terrifying to think that the life she’s lived for the past four years is about to come to an end.

“Stop thinking so much,” Raven tells her, kicking her from the opposite side of the couch. “I can hear you all the way over here.”

“Oh, my sincerest apologies,” Clarke feigns, accentuated with raised hands.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Raven adds and then turns her attention back to the movie, another low-rated, low-budget horror movie that hasn’t caught Clarke’s attention. Instead, she pulls out her phone and scrolls through her social media and then her text messages. She still hasn’t heard from Lexa and she contemplates breaking the silence between them, but her pride has convinced her to wait for Lexa to break the ice.

But as more time passes, her pride grows weaker.

“We won’t judge you if you text her,” Octavia says, watching her intently from the opposite couch, casting her gaze down at Clarke’s phone and then back up to Clarke’s eyes. “You’ve been checking your phone every three minutes like clockwork.”

“It’s not my fault Raven picked a boring movie,” Clarke defends, even though Octavia isn’t wrong.

“Just text her,” Raven adds without looking away from the screen. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Clarke considers it, because really, what is the worst that could happen? Lexa could tell her that she doesn’t want to talk to her anymore, but Clarke can handle that. It’s not like she’s never felt the sting of rejection before. Lexa may not even respond, but Clarke’s sure she can handle that too, and what could be worse than that? At least Clarke is willing to put herself out there and initiate the conversation; what’s shameful about that?

So she swallows her pride and types out a text, and then erases it. She tries again, but it sounds too formal and scripted, so she erases that one too. One more try, but the text turns into a novel and she deletes that one as well.

**Clarke (8:42 pm): Hey.**

She finally settles and then presses send. Then she puts her phone down and swears not to look at it again until she gets a response.

 

\-----

 

“You and I both know that’s not fair,” Anya states, placing her glass of whiskey on the bar in front of her.

“It’s for the best,” Lexa replies, mimicking Anya’s movements.

Anya grits her teeth but doesn’t respond, knowing that nothing she says will change Lexa’s mind. Not yet. Instead she takes another sip of her whiskey, glancing around the bar with casual disinterest. Praimfaya is not the most extravagant bar in town; in fact, it’s the exact opposite – the perfect definition of a dive bar. That’s why Lexa had chosen it. Dimly lit and mostly empty, especially on a Sunday night, it was the perfect place for Lexa to wallow in her own misery. Ever the martyr.

Lexa, on the other hand, never draws her gaze away from the glass sitting in front of her. Her lithe pointer finger traces the rim carefully, the glass smooth beneath her fingertip. Her phone sits beside the glass, but Lexa had turned it on silent after her most recent message: a text from Clarke. Anya had encouraged her to respond, but Lexa refused, pouring more whiskey down her throat.

“You know you’ll just respond when you get drunk enough,” Anya states knowingly. “Especially if you keep it up at this rate.”

“Shof op, Anya,” Lexa replies coldly, her voice tired and annoyed. It takes Anya back for a second. Lexa rarely uses the language of their people. Even though a family with similar heritage had taken her in, Lexa had discarded that part of her past when she left her parents behind for good. She only ever let the native tongue fall past her lips in accident, when her brain was too tired or too distracted to separate it from English.

Anya sighs, wondering if she should just let Lexa sort this out for herself tonight. She brings the glass to her lips and downs the rest of her whiskey before standing up to pull her coat on.

“Call me when you need a ride home, okay?” Anya squeezes Lexa’s shoulder. She nods once, a subtle lift of her jaw. Anya lets her hand linger just a moment longer. “Ste yuj,” she says quietly, just low enough so Lexa can hear, and then leaves.

How did Lexa get here? Not even she knows the answer. Twenty-four hours ago, things had been completely different. She was happy, even hopeful, about the way things had begun to progress with Clarke. She should have known that it wouldn’t last long. She should have seen this coming. The good things never last long. She doesn’t know when she became such a pessimist, but damn, she never should have let it get this far.

To be completely honest though, she can’t tell if her sour mood is due more to her naivety about her situation with Clarke or rather with Costia. Costia had said her name one time through a phone line and Lexa felt herself come apart at the edges, old wounds ripped wide open with just two syllables. Not that she’s still in love with Costia; that piece of her had died a long time ago. Regardless, Costia made her feel things about herself that she never wanted to feel. She made her feel weak and reckless.

“Hodnes laik kwelnes,” she mumbles into her whiskey. _Love is weakness_ , she thinks.

“What was that?” a voice asks, pulling Lexa out of her thoughts to find the bartender staring at her intently. He stands at least six feet tall with broad shoulders and thick arms. Tattoos decorate his skin, even on his face, though some seem hidden by his thick, black beard.

“Oh, nothing. Sorry,” she mutters back. Had she said that out loud?

“Another drink for you?” the man offers, throwing a towel over his shoulder after wiping down the bar.

“Please,” Lexa answers, swallowing the rest of her whiskey without even a grimace.

“You got it, kid,” the bartender laughs. “Just make sure you know how you’re getting home.”

She nods in response, letting the annoyance slide past her as she dismisses the kid title. Anya will come get her, or maybe she’ll just walk. Her eyes dart to her phone, still on silent and the screen still dark. She wonders if Clarke has sent any more text messages or if she had given up after the one. Hours have passed since the first text came through, regret blooming in her stomach with each passing minute, but she can’t bring herself to pick up the phone. No. It’s for the best.

The bartender slides a fresh glass in front of her and carries the empty one to the sink.

“I know the place is named after the apocalypse, but you know the world’s not actually ending, right?” he calls over his shoulder, the hint of a joke hidden within his eyes.

Lexa doesn’t bother to respond, but sips her whiskey instead. She knows he’s playing the friendly bartender role, trying to make small talk to up his chances for a good tip. Lexa doesn’t have the patience nor desire to play along tonight, but he doesn’t seem content to let the conversation pass. He walks back over to her after washing her glass, a tall glass of beer in hand.

“You look like someone who has a lot on her mind,” he says casually, leaning against the bar as he downs half of his beer in one breath. Lexa fixes him with the stoic stare she has perfected over the years, a look that many would perceive as contemptuous or uninterested. “Bartenders make great therapists. Or listeners. Whatever you prefer.”

“No, thank you,” she replies, her tone formal and unmistakably dismissive.

“I’ve heard about a lot of people’s troubles,” he continues, glancing around the practically empty bar, spare for a couple sitting at the opposite end. “I guess it comes with owning a bar for twelve years.”

He takes another swig of his beer and Lexa takes the opportunity to sip from her whiskey, silently compelling the man to walk away or at least stop talking. It doesn’t work.

“What’s your name?”

“Lexa,” she replies shortly.

“Gustus,” he reciprocates, offering a beefy hand across the bar. Lexa doesn’t take it; only nods her head in acknowledgement. The man doesn’t take any offense. If anything, he merely finds it amusing. “I don’t like it much either. Some people call me Gus.”

“Gus isn’t much better.”

“I wouldn’t insult the guy who pours your drinks,” he responds lightheartedly, a kind smile tugging at his lips. Lexa actually kind of smiles in response; it’s faint and barely there, but a smile nonetheless, and she acknowledges the fairness in his statement with a nod.

The door opens then and a young man staggers inside, his body shaking with the cold. He sits at a stool a few down from Lexa and Gustus excuses himself to help his latest customer. Lexa sinks back into her thoughts, noticing her cell phone once again staring back at her with its dark screen. She should text Clarke back. Actually, she should call her and explain everything. She should explain why this can’t work and why Lexa needs to put distance between them, explain how fucked up and damaged she is, make it clear to her that she deserves better than what Lexa can offer.

She knows what she should do, but she also knows that the minute she hears Clarke’s voice, she’ll forget all of these reasons.

Her thoughts argue back and forth, constantly in a state of tug-of-war between what she wants to do and what she should do. Finally she can’t deal with it anymore and without thinking much about it, she reaches for her phone and pulls up her text messages.

**Clarke (8:42 p.m.): Hey.**

Nothing new since then. She doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse. It either means Clarke doesn’t care enough to send another or it means that she thinks Lexa rejected her, which, technically, she did.

Her phone reads 12:03 a.m. now and suddenly she becomes aware of how late it is and how tired she feels. She doesn’t have it in her to wage this mental war with her thoughts anymore with all of its grey areas and back-and-forths. As she types out a text to Anya asking her to pick her up, Gus returns and she hands him her credit card for the bill. He returns moments later with her receipt, and she tips him generously despite his persistence.

“Have a good night, Lexa,” he says to her as he retrieves the credit card slip.

“You too, Gus,” she says after finishing her last sip of whiskey.

“Oh, and Lexa?” he adds as an afterthought, spinning around to meet her gaze.

“Yeah?”

“Hodness nou laik kwelnes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been a long time since this thing was active! I decided to come back to it on a whim now that school is done for the summer. I'd like to pick it back up again, but I'm pretty rusty. I haven't written at all since the last update so it's a little rough!
> 
> As always, thoughts, comments, and critiques always appreciated. I'm still deciding where I want this story to go, so I love hearing what you guys think!


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